







^*^^^ 






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THE CORRESPONDENCE 

OF 

MADAME PRINCESS PALATINE, 
MARIE-ADELAIDE DE SAVOIE, 

AND 

MADAME DE MAINTENON. 



VERSAILLES EDirieN 

Limited to Eight Hundred Numbered Sets, of which 
this is 

No. 




'.fX^.-Kfy?^?-/'- 



THE CORRESPONDENCE/ 

/ 

OF 

MADAME, PRINCESS PALATINE, 

MOTHER OF THE REGENT; 
OF 

MARIE-ADELAIDE DE SAVOIE, 

DUCHESSE DE BOURGOGNE ; 
AND OF 

MADAME DE "MAINTENON, 

IN RELATION TO SAINT-CYR. 



PRECEDED BY INTRODUCTIONS FROM C.-A. SAINTE-BEUVE. 



SekctctJ anti QTranglateti 



KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY. 



BOSTON: 

HARDY, PRATT & COMPANY. 

1899. 






31659 



Copyright, 1899, 
By Hardy, Pratt & Company. 



All rights reserved. 



■ZOP\r-r^ L'- '.:,"■ ,.^^^^^^ 



(( MAV|niB99 1 



SEmbersitg Press: 

John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A. 






CONTENTS. 



Page 

Introduction by C.-A. Sainte-Beuve 1 

Translator's Note . 35 

COEKESPONDENCE OF MADAME: 

I. Letters of 1695-1714 39 

II. Letters of 1714-1716 64 

III. Letters of 1717-1718 94 

IV. Letters of 1718-1719 124 

V. Letters of 1720-1722 153 

COREESPONDENCE OF MAEIE-ADI:LAIDE DE SAVOIE: 

VI. Letters of the Duchesse de Bourgogne . . 182 

COEEESPONDENCE of MADAME DE MAINTENON : 

VII. Mme. de Maintenon and Saint-Cyr . . . , 216 
VIII. Letters to the Dames de Saint-Cyr and 

Others 236 

IX. Conversations and Instructions of Mme. de 

Maintenon at Saint-Cyr 268 

X. Mme. de Maintenon's Description of her Life 
at Court; with a Few Miscellaneous Let- 
ters 300 

Index 323 



LIST OP 
PHOTOGRAVURE ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Madame, jfeLiSABETH-CHARLOTTE, Princess Palatine, Duchesse 

d'Oeleans Frontispiece 

By Rigaud (Hyacinthe); iu the Brunswick gallery. This is the 
picture Madame mentions in her letters; this reproduction is from 
the copy which she promised to send to her sister Louise, Countess 
Palatine; the original portrait is at Versailles. 

Chaeteb Page 

I. Saint-Cloud, ChIteau and Park of ........ . 42 

From a photograph bj' Neurdin, Paris. 

II. Fontainebleatt. Louis XIV. and Escort, hunting ... 64 

By Van der Meulen (Adam Franz); painted by order of the king; 
in the Louvre. 

III. Marie -Anne -ViCTO ire de BAViiiRE, Dauphine, Wife of 

Monseigneur, with her Sons 96 

The Due de Bourgogne carries a lance ; the Due d'Anjou (Philippe 
V.) holds a dog ; the Due de Berry is on his mother's lap ; by Mig- 
nard (Pierre) ; in the Louvre. 

IV. Louise de Bourbon, "Mme. la Duchesse" 124 

By Largilli^re (Nicolas de) ; Versailles. 

V. Marie-TherI;se, Infanta op Spain, Wife of Louis XIV. . 154 
By Velasquez (Diego Rodriguez da Silva y) ; in the Prado gallery, 
Madrid. 

V. Rene Descartes 168 

By Franz Halz; in the Louvre. 



VI LIST OF PHOTOGRAVURE ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Chapter Page 

VI. Maeie-Adelaide de Savoie, Duchessb de Bourgogne . . 182 

Painter's name not obtained; probably Santerre; in the Royal 
palace at Turin ; photographed by permission from the original for 
this edition. 

VII. Madame db Maintenon . 216 

Head of the portrait painted for Saint-Cyr by Mignard ; now in 
the Louvre. 

X. Louis XIV. at Marly 300 

By Geuslain (Charles) ; Versailles. 



COERESPONDENCE OF MADAME, 

Elisabeth-chaelotte, peincess palatine, 

MOTHER OF THE EEGENT. 
INTEODUCTION BY C.-A. SAINTE-BEUVE. 



" I AM very frank and very natural, and T say all that I 
have in my heart." That is the motto that ought to be 
placed upon the correspondence of Madame, which was 
chiefly written in German and pubhshed from time to time 
in voluminous extracts at Strasburg and beyond the Ehine. 
This correspondence, translated by fragments, was made into 
a volume and called, very improperly, the "Memoirs of 
Madame." Coming after other memoirs of the celebrated 
women of the great century, it ran singularly counter to 
them in tone, and caused great surprise. Now that the 
Memoirs of Saint-Simon have been published in full, I will 
not say that the pages of the chronicle we owe to Madame 
have paled, but they have ceased to astonish. They are now 
recognized as good, naive pictures, somewhat forced in colour, 
rather coarse in feature, exaggerated and grimacing at 
times, but on the whole good likenesses. The right method 
for judging of Madame's correspondence, and thus of gaining 
insight to the history of that period, is to see how Madame 
wrote, and in what spirit; also what she herself was by 
nature and by education. Eor this purpose the letters pub- 

1 



2 INTEODUCTION. 

lished by M. Menzel in German, and translated by M. Brunet, 
are of great assistance to a knowledge of this singular and 
original personage ; to understand her properly it is not too 
much to say that Germany and France must be combined. 

EKsabeth-Charlotte, who married in 1671 Monsieur, 
brother of Louis XIV., was born at Heidelberg in 1652. 
Her father, Charles-Louis, was that Elector of the Palati- 
nate who was restored to his States by the Peace of West- 
phalia. From childhood Elisabeth-Charlotte was noted for 
her lively mind, and her frank, open, vigorous nature. 
Domestic peace had never reigned about the hearth of the 
Elector-Palatine ; he had a mistress, whom he married by 
the left hand, and the mother of Ehsabeth-Charlotte is 
accused of having caused the separation by her crabbed 
temper. The young girl was confided to the care of her 
aunt Sophia, Electress of Hanover, a person of merit, for 
whom she always retained the feelings and gratitude of a 
loving daughter. To her she addressed her longest and most 
confidential letters, which would certainly surpass in interest 
those that are published, but M. Menzel states that it is not 
known what became of them. All that part of the life and 
youth of Madame would be curious and very useful to 
recover. " I was too old," she says, " when I came to France 
to change my character ; the foundations were laid." While 
subjecting herself with courage and resolution to the duties 
of her new position she kept her German tastes ; she con- 
fesses them and proclaims them before all Versailles and 
all Marly ; and the Court, then the arbiter of Europe, to 
which it set the tone, would certainly have been shocked if 
it had not preferred to smile. 

From Marly after forty-three years' residence in France, 
Madame writes (November 22, 1714): "I cannot endure 
coffee, chocolate, or tea, and I do not understand how any 



INTRODUCTION. 3 

one can like tliem ; a good dish of sauerkraut and smoked 
sausages is, to my mind, a feast for a king, to which nothing 
is preferable ; cabbage soup with lard suits me much better 
than all the delicacies they dote on here." In the common- 
est and most every-day things she finds another and a poorer 
taste than in Germany. "The butter and milk," she says, 
after fifty years' residence, " are not as good as ours ; they 
have no flavour and taste like water. The cabbages are not 
good either, for the soil is not rich, but light and sandy, 
so that vegetables have no strength and the cows cannot give 
good milk. Mon Bleu I how I should like to eat the dishes 
your cook prepares for you ; they would be more to my taste 
than those my maitre-dliotel serves up to me." 

But she clung to her own country, her German stock, her 
" Ehin allemand," by other memories than those of food and 
the national cooking. She loved nature, the country, a free 
life, even a wild one ; the impressions of her childhood returned 
to her in whiffs of freshness. Apropos of Heidelberg, rebuilt 
after the disasters, and of a convent of Jesuits, or Francis- 
cans, established on the heights, " Mon Dieu ! " she cries, 
" how many times I have eaten cherries on that mountain, 
with a good bit of bread, at five in the morning ! I was 
gayer then than I am to-day." The brisk air of Heidelberg 
is with her after fifty years' absence ; and she speaks of it a 
few months before her death to the half-sister Louise, to 
whom she writes : " There is not in all the world a better 
air than that of Heidelberg ; above all, about the chateau 
where my apartment is ; nothing better can be found." 

In Germany, on the banks of the IsTeckar and the Ehine, 
Elisabeth-Charlotte enjoyed the picturesque sites, her rambles 
through the forests, Nature left to herself, and also the spots 
of bourgeois plenty amid the wilder environment. " I love 
trees and fields more than the finest palaces ; I like a kitchen 



4 INTRODUCTION. 

garden better than a garden witli statues and fountains ; a 
brook pleases me a great deal more than sumptuous cascades ; 
in a word, all that is natural is infinitely more to my taste 
than works of art or magnificence ; the latter only please at 
first sight ; as soon as one is accustomed to them they fatigue, 
and we care no more about them." In France she was par- 
ticularly fond of residing at Saint-Cloud, where she enjoyed 
Nature with greater liberty. At Fontainebleau she often 
walked out on foot and went a league through the forest. 
On her arrival in France and first appearance at Court, she 
told her physician when presented to her that " she did not 
need him ; she had never been bled or purged, and when she 
did not feel well she always walked six miles on foot, which 
cured her." Mme. de S^vign^, who relates this, seems to 
conclude, with the majority of the Court, that the new 
Madame was overcome with her grandeur and spoke like a 
person who is not accustomed to such surroundings. Mme. 
de S^vign^ is mistaken ; Madame was in no degree overcome 
by her greatness. She felt herself born for the high rank of 
Monsieur's wife, and would have felt in her right place if 
higher still. But Mme. de Sevign^, though she herself 
walked with pleasure in her woods at Livry and her park 
des Eochers, did not divine the proud young girl, so brusque 
and wild, who ate with delight her bit of bread and cherries 
plucked from the trees at five in the morning on the hills of 
Heidelberg. 

Madame's marriage was not made to please her. In 
France this has been concealed ; in Germany it was said 
quite plainly. Her father, the Elector, hoped by this alliance 
to buy the safety of his dominions, always threatened by 
the French. Like a pious daughter she obeyed ; but she 
could not refrain from saying : " I am the pohtical lamb, 
about to be sacrificed for my country." The lamb, after we 



INTRODUCTIOK 5 

once know her, seems a singular term to choose for so 
vigorous a victim ; but the comparison is just, all the same, 
so tender and good was the heart within her. 

The rSle that Madame conceived for herself in France 
was that of preserving her native country from the horrors 
of war, and of being useful to it in the different schemes 
which agitated the Court of France and might in the end 
overthrow it. In this she failed ; and the failure was to her 
a poignant grief. She was even made the innocent cause 
of fresh disasters to the land she loved when, on the 
death of her father and her brother (who left no children), 
Louis XIV. set up a claim to the Palatinate on her account. 
Instead of bringing pledges and guarantees of peace, she 
found herself a pretext and a means for war. The devasta- 
tion and the too famous incendiarism of the Palatinate 
which the struggles of ambition brought about caused her 
inexpressible grief. " When I think of those flames, shudders 
run over me. Every time I try to go to sleep I see Heidel- 
berg on fire, and I start up in bed, so that I am almost ill 
in consequence." She speaks of this incessantly, and bleeds 
and weeps for it after many years. For Louvois she re- 
tained an eternal hatred. " I suffer bitter pain," she writes 
thirty years later (November 3, 1718), " when I think of all 
that M. de Louvois burned up in the Palatinate ; I believe 
he is burning terribly in the other world, for he died so 
suddenly he had no time to repent." 

Madame's virtue in this and other conjunctures was in 
being faithful to France and to Louis XIV., all the while 
torn by distress within her secret self. She never ceases 
to interest herself in the fate of her unhappy country, and 
in its resurrection after so many disasters. " I love that 
prince," she said of the Elector of another branch which 
was reigning in 1718, " because he loves the Palatinate. I 



6 INTEODUCTION. 

can easily imagine how pained he was when he saw how 
little remained in the ruins of Heidelberg; the tears come 
into my eyes when I think of it, and I am so sad." Never- 
theless, she. regrets the rehgious bickerings and persecutions 
introduced into the country, and her own powerlessness to 
intervene for the protection of those who are persecuted. 
" I see but too plainly now," she writes in 1719, " that God 
did not will that I should accomplish any good in France, 
for, in spite of my efforts, I have never been able to be useful 
to my native country. It is true that when I came to 
France it was purely in obedience to my father, my uncle, 
and my aunt, the Electress of Hanover ; my inclination did 
in nowise bring me here." Thus, in the marriage, apparently 
so brilliant, which she contracted with the brother of Louis 
XIV. Madame cared for one thing only, namely, to serve 
and protect her German land from French policy ; and on 
that very side where pohtics (to which she was always a 
stranger) touched her most, she had the grief of failing. 

When the marriage of Elisabeth-Charlotte was negotiated, 
it became a question of converting her. The erudite and 
witty Ch^vreau, who was at the Court of the Elector Palatine 
in the capacity of councillor, flattered himself that he con- 
tributed to that result by daily interviews with her of four 
hours in length for three weeks. One of the orators who 
eulogized Madame at the time of her death, her almoner 
(the Abb^ de Saint-G^ri de Magnas), said as to this : " When 
asked in marriage for Monsieur by Louis XIV. the principal 
condition was that she should embrace the Catholic religion. 
Neither ambition nor levity had any share in this change; 
the respect and tenderness she felt for Mme. la Princesse 
Palatine, her aunt, who was Cathohc, prevented her from 
refusing to be instructed. She listened to Pere Jourdain, a 
Jesuit. Born with the rectitude which distinguished her 



INTRODUCTION. 7 

all her life, she did not resist the truth. Her abjuration was 
made at Metz." 

Madame was, in truth, perfectly sincere in her conversion ; 
nevertheless, she carried into it something of her freedom 
of mind and her independence of temper. " On my arrival 
in France," she says, " they made me hold conferences about 
rehgion with three bishops. All three differed in their 
beliefs ; I took the quintessence of their opinions and formed 
my own." In this cathoKc religion, thus defined in the 
rough, which she believed and practised in perfect good faith, 
there remained traces and several of the habits of her early 
faith. She continued to read the Bible in German. She 
mentions that at that period in France scarcely any one, even 
among the devout, read Holy Scripture. The translations 
recently made of it had led to such discussions and bitter 
quarrels that the ecclesiastical authority intervened and 
forbade the reading of them ; which has ever since remained 
a rarity in our country. Madame was therefore a notable 
exception when, in her plan of life, she gave a great and 
regular place to meditation on the Holy Book. She selected 
three days in the week for that salutary practice. " After 
my son's visit," she writes (November, 1717), " I sat down to 
table, and after dinner I took my Bible and read four chapters 
of the book of Job, four Psalms, and two chapters of Saint 
John, leaving the other two till this morning." And she 
might have written the same thing on each of her appointed 
days. On one occasion she was singing unconsciously the 
Calvinist psalms, or the Lutheran canticles (for she mixed 
them up), while walking alone in the Orangery at Ver- 
sailles, when a painter who was at work on a scaffolding 
came down hurriedly and threw himself at her feet, say- 
ing with gratitude : " Is it possible, Madame, that you 
still remember our Psalms ? " The painter was a reformer 



8 INTRODUCTION. 

and afterwards a refugee; she relates the little story very 
touchingly. 

She had nothing of the sectarian spirit. She blamed 
Luther for wishing to make a separate Church ; he ought 
to have confined himself, she thought, to attacking abuses. 
She retained from him and from other reformers, in spite of 
her conversion, a habit of invective against religious Orders 
of an kinds; and on this subject she bursts into tirades 
which are less those of a woman than of a pedant of the 
sixteenth century or some doctor emancipated from the rue 
Saint-Jacques. Gui Patin in a farthingale could not have 
expressed himself differently. She corresponded with Leib- 
nitz, who assured her that she wrote German " not badly ; " 
which pleased her much, for she could not endure, she says, 
to see Germans despising and ignoring their mother tongue. 
The letters that she wrote to Leibnitz would be precious 
could they some day be recovered and published. She may 
have gladly borrowed from that illustrious philosopher his 
idea of an approach and fusion, a reconciliation, in short, 
between the principal Christian communities, for she renders 
it, rather brusquely as her manner was, when she says : " If 
they followed my advice all the sovereigns would give orders 
that among all Christians, without distinction of beliefs, 
people were to abstain from insulting expressions, and that 
each and all were to believe and practise as they saw fit." 
In the midst of that Court of Louis XIV., which was so 
unanimous as to the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, she 
retained the most inviolable ideas of tolerance. " It is not 
showing themselves in any way Christian," she said, " to tor- 
ture people for religious reasons, and I think it monstrous ; 
but when one examines things to the bottom we find that 
religion is only a pretext ; all is done from policy and selfish 
interests. They are serving Mammon, and not God." 



INTEODUCTION. 9 

Later, she humanely intercedes with her son, the regent, 
to release from the galleys the Eeformers who had been sent 
there. But as it is in Madame's temperament to exaggerate 
everything, even her own good quahties, and to introduce a 
sort of incoherence into her efforts, she goes far beyond her 
object when she expresses the wish that ^she may see in the 
galleys, in the place of such poor innocents, those who she 
thinks have persecuted them, and also other monks, especially 
the Spanish monks, who resisted to the last in Barcelona the 
accession of Louis XIV.'s grandson. " They preached in 
all the streets that no one should surrender ; and if I had 
my way those rascals would have gone to the galleys in 
place of the poor Eeformers who are languishing there." 
That is Madame — in all her goodness of heart, extrava- 
gance of language, and her frank, sincere religion of a mixed 
nature. 

When she arrived in France at the age of nineteen no 
one expected all this. The Court was filled with memories 
and regrets for the late Madame, the amiable Henrietta, 
snatched away in the bloom of her charm and grace. 
" Alas ! " cries Mme. de S^vign^, speaking of the new-comer, 
" alas ! if this Madame could only represent to us her whom 
we have lost ! " In place of a blithesome fairy and a being 
of enchantment, what was it that suddenly appeared before 
them? 

" Madame," says Saint-Simon, " was a princess of the olden 
time ; attached to honour, virtue, rank, grandeur, and in- 
exorable as to their observances. She was not without 
intellect ; and what she saw she saw very well. A good and 
faithful friend, trusty, true, and upright ; easy to prejudice 
and shock ; very difficult to bring back from prejudice ; 
coarse, and dangerous in her public outbursts ; very German 
in her habits; frank, indifferent to aU propriety and all 



10 INTRODUCTION. 

delicacy for herself and for others ; sober, solitary, and fuU 
of notions. She loved dogs and horses, hunting and theatres 
passionately, and was never seen except in full dress or in a 
man's wig and riding-habit." 

He concludes his portrait admirably in these words : 
" The figure and rusticity of a Swiss, but capable withal of 
a tender and inviolable friendship." 

Introduced at Court by her aunt, the illustrious Princess 
Palatine, Anne of Gonzaga, in nothing was she in keeping 
with it, — neither in spirit, nor in the gifts of insinuation and 
concihatory conduct, nor in caution. Succeeding the first 
Madame, she seemed even farther aloof from it, more 
completely a contrast in manners, in the quality and 
turn of her thoughts, in dehcacy, in short, in everything. 
Madame, throughout her life, was, and must necessarily 
have been, the contrary of many things and many persons 
about her; she was original, at any rate, and in all ways 
Herself. 

It seems an irony of fate that gave as second wife to 
Monsieur, that prince so weak and so effeminate, a woman who 
in tastes was far more like a man, and who always regretted 
she was not born a boy. Madame gayly relates how, in her 
youth, feehng her vocation as a cavalier very strongly, she 
was always expecting some miracle of Nature in her favour. 
With this idea she devoted herself as much as she could to 
all manly exercises and perilous leaping. She cared much 
more for swords and guns than for dolls. But above all 
she proves how little of a woman's nature was in her by 
the want of dehcacy, or, to speak plainly, the lack of mod- 
esty in what she says. She is honesty itself, virtue, fidehty, 
honour; but also, at times, indecency and coarseness per- 
sonified. She speaks of everything indiscriminately, like 
a man, is never disgusted by any language, and never goes 



INTRODUCTION. 11 

by four roads when slie has to express something which 
would be difficult and embarrassing to any one but herself. 
Contrary to the nature of women, she has no desire to please, 
and no coquetry. Being asked one day why she never 
glanced into a mirror in passing it, "Because," she replied, 
" I have too much self-love to like to see how ugly I am." 
The fine portrait by Eigaud gives us a perfect likeness of 
her in her old age, portly, fat, a double chin and red cheeks, 
with dignity of carriage nevertheless, and a proud bearing, but 
an expression of kindness in the eyes and smile.^ She her- 
self was pleased at times to record her ughness ; one might 
even suppose that she valued it. 

" It is no matter whether one is handsome or not ; a fine 
face changes soon, but a good conscience is always good. You 
must remember very little of me if you do not rank me 
among the ugly ones ; I have always been so, and I am more 
so now because of the small-pox. My waist is monstrous in 
size ; I am as square as a cube ; my skin is red, mottled with 
yellow ; my hair is getting gray ; my nose is honeycombed 
with the small-pox, and so are my cheeks ; I have a large 
mouth and bad teeth ; and there 's the portrait of my pretty 
face." 

Certainly no one was ever ugly with more spirit and light- 
heartedness. Occasionally there slips in beneath Madame's 
pen and her expressions a natural vein of Eabelais and the 
grotesque. She fills in that way a unique corner in the 
Court of Louis XIV. Knowing well what was due to her 
rank and never departing from it, there are many occasions 
when she is incongruous with it and violates decorum. 

It was perhaps by this naive brusqueness, and also by her 
solid qualities as an honest woman (I was going to say an 
honest man), that she pleased Louis XIV., so that between 

1 This portrait is the frontispiece of the present translated edition. — Tk. 



12 INTRODUCTION. 

herself and him there was formed a friendship which was 
not without its singularity, and which at first sight seems 
surprising. Mme. de S^vign^, in a letter to her daughter, 
seems to think that Madame felt for Louis XIV. (as the pre- 
ceding Madame had done) an inclination that was more or 
less romantic, and which affected her without her admitting 
to herself exactly what it was. There is a little too much 
that is far-fetched ia aU this. In general, as I have already 
remarked, Mme. de S^vign^ understands Madame very Httle, 
and does not give herself the trouble to seek the meaning of 
a nature so little French. When she hears that the princess 
fainted with grief at the sudden news of the death of her 
father, the Elector Palatine, Mme. de S^vign6 jests about it 
thus : " On this, Madame began to cry and weep and make a 
strange noise; they said she fainted, but I do not believe 
it; she seems to me incapable of that sign of weakness. 
All that death could do would be to sober her spirits," — 
fiooer ses esprits, because ses esprits (in the language of the 
physics of the day) were always in movement and great 
agitation. 

But let us leave for a moment such French pleasantry and 
this facility for trifling with everything and over-refining all 
things. Madame, married in so sad and hapless a manner, 
and with whom one had only to talk, it was said, to be dis- 
gusted at once with the painful conditions of marriage, — 
Madame was not the woman to fall back upon romance to 
console her for reality. Thrown into the midst of a brilHant 
but false Court, fuU at that time of gallantry and pleasures 
which merely covered ambitions and rivalries, she distin- 
guished with an instinct of good sense and a certain pride of 
race the person to whom she could attach herself in the 
midst of all these people, and she turned with her natural 
uprightness to the most honest man among them, namely, to 



INTRODUCTION. 13 

Louis XIV. himself. A Jesuit, who pronounced a funeral 
oration over Madame, Pfere Cathalan, has said on this sub- 
ject all that was best to say. In the kingdom at that time 
was a king who was worthy of being one; with the good 
qualities we know well, combined with defects which every 
one about him sought to favour and encourage ; a king who 
was essentially a man of merit, " always master and always 
king, but more of an honest man and Christian than he was 
master or king." 

" It was this merit that touched her," says Pfere Cathalan, 
very truly. " A taste for, and, if I may so express myself, 
a sympathy of greatness attached Madame to Louis XIV. 
Inward affinities inake noble attachments of esteem and 
respect ; and great souls, though the features of their great- 
ness may differ, feel, and resemble one another. She es- 
teemed, she honoured, shall I venture to say she loved that 
great king because she was great herself. She loved him 
when he was greater than his fortunes ; she loved him stiU 
more when he was greater than his sorrows. We saw her 
giving to the dying monarch her bitter tears, giving them 
again to his memory, seeking him in that superb palace so 
filled with his presence and his virtues, saying often how she 
missed him, and feeling always the wound of his death, — a 
sentiment which the glory of her son, the regent, could never 
take away." 

Madame was agreeable to Louis XIV. by her frankness, 
her open nature ; she amused him with her repartees and her 
lively talk ; she made him laugh with all his heart, for (a 
rare thing at Courts) she liked joy for joy's sake. "Joy is 
very good for the health," thought she ; " the silliest thing is 
to be sad." She broke the monotony of Court ceremony, 
the long silent meals, the slow minuets of all kinds. What 
would have been incongruous in others had a certain spice 



14. INTRODUCTION. 

in lier ; she had her privileges. " When the king dislikes to 
say a thing directly to any one, he addresses his speech 
to me; he knows very well that I don't constrain my- 
self in conversation, and that diverts him. At table he 
is obliged to talk with me because nobody else will say a 
word." 

She was not so inferior to the king as might be thought ; 
or rather she was not inferior to him at all except in 
politeness, in moderation, in the spirit of consistency and 
sobriety. In certain respects she judged him with much 
intelligence, and with freer and broader good sense than he 
was capable of himself ; she thought him ignorant in many 
ways, and she was right. What she valued most in him 
was his uprightness of feehng, and the accuracy of his cowp- 
d'o&il when left to himself ; also the quahty of his mind, the 
charm of his intercourse, the excellent expression of his 
thoughts, — it was, in short, a certain loftiness of nature which 
attracted and charmed her in Louis XIV. She aided more 
than any other in consoling him and diverting his mind after 
the death of the Duchesse de Bourgogne ; she went to him 
every evening at the permitted hour, and she saw that he 
was pleased with her company. " There is no one but Ma- 
dame who does not leave me now," said Louis XIV. " I see 
that she is glad to be with me." Madame has ingenuously 
expressed the sort of open and sincere affection that she felt 
for Louis XIV. by saying : " If the king had been my father 
I could not have loved him more than I did love him, and I 
had pleasure in being with him." Wlien the king's health 
dechned and he neared his last hour, we find Madame laying 
bare her grief in her letters ; she, whose son was about to 
become regent, she dreads more than any one the change of 
reign. " The king is not well," she says, August 15, 1715, 
" and it troubles me to the point of being half ill myself ; I 



INTEODUCTION. 15 

have lost both sleep and appetite. God grant I may be 
mistaken ! but if what I fear should happen it would be for 
me the greatest of misfortunes." She relates the last scenes 
of farewell with true and visible emotion. The little good 
that has been done in the final years of that long reign she 
attributes to Louis XIV. ; and all that was bad she imputes 
to her whom she considers an evil genius and the devil per- 
sonified, — to Mme. de Maintenon. 

And here we come to Madame's great antipathy, to what 
in her is almost unimaginable prejudice, hatred, and ani- 
mosity so violent that they become at times comical. And 
truly, if Madame at a given moment had really been in love 
with Louis XIY., and if she had hated in Mme. de Mainte- 
non the rival who supplanted her, she could not have ex- 
pressed herself otherwise. But there is no need of that sort 
of explanation for a nature so easy to prejudice, so difficult 
to placate, and so wholly in opposition and contrast to the 
point of departure and proceedings of Mme. de Maintenon. 
Hers were antipathies of race, of condition, of temperament, 
which long years passed in the presence, the continual sight, 
the rigid restraint of their object only cultivated, secretly 
fomented, and exasperated. Who has not seen such long- 
suppressed enmities which explode when an opening is made 
for them ? 

Madame, pre-eminently princess of a sovereign house, who 
never, with all her natural human quahties and her free and 
easy ways, forgot the duties of birth and grandeur, she of 
whom it was said, " No great personage ever knew her rights 
better or made them better felt by others," — Madame held 
nothing in so much horror and contempt as misalhances. 
The gallery at Versailles long echoed with the resounding 
blow she applied to her son on the day when, having con- 
sented to marry the natural daughter of Louis XIV., he ap- 



16 INTRODUCTION. 

preached his mother according to custom, to kiss her hand. 
Now of all misalliances what could be greater or more inex- 
cusable to her eyes than that which placed Mme. de Mainte- 
non beside Louis XIV. ? 

Madame, natural, frank, letting her feelings willingly escape 
her, Hking to pour them out, often in excess beyond them- 
selves and observing no caution, could not away with the 
cold procedure, prudent, cautious, mysterious, polite, and 
unassailable, of a person to whom she attributed a thousand 
schemes blacker and deeper than those of hell. ■ 

She disliked her for little things and dishked her for 
great ones. She supposed that it was Mme. de Maintenon 
who, in concert with P^re de La Chaise, had plotted and 
carried through the persecution of the Eeformers ; in this 
she was not only human, but she found herself once more a 
little of a Calvinist or a Lutheran with a touch of the old 
leaven ; she thought close at hand what the refugees in 
Holland were writing from afar. She believed she saw in 
Mme. de Maintenon a Tartuffe in a sage-coloured gown. 
And besides — another grievance almost as serious ! — if there 
was no longer any etiquette at Court, if ranks were no longer 
preserved and defined, Mme. de Maintenon was the cause 
of it. 

" There is no longer a Court in France," she writes, " and 
it is the fault of the Maintenon, who, finding that the king 
would not declare her queen, was determined there should 
be no more great functions, and has persuaded the young 
dauphine [the Duchesse de Bourgogne] to stay in her, Mme. 
de Maintenon's rooms, where there is no distinction of rank 
or dignity. Under pretext of its being a game, the old 
woman has induced the dauphine and the princesses to wait 
upon her at her toilet and meals ; she has even persuaded 
them to hand her the dishes, change her plates, and pour 



INTRODUCTION. 17 

what she drank. Everything is topsy-turvy, and none of 
them know their right place nor what they are. I have 
never mixed myself up in all that: when I go to see the 
lady I place myself close to her niche in an armchair, and 
I never help her either at her meals or her toilet. Some 
persons have advised me to do as the dauphine and the 
princesses do, but I answer : * I was never brought ujj to 
do servile things, and I am too old to play childish games.' 
Since then no one has said anything more about it." 

I should never end if I enumerated all the reasons by 
which Madame brought herself, gradually and insensibly, to 
a species of mania which seizes her whenever she has to 
speak of Mme. de Maintenon, for there are no terms that she 
does not emjjloy about her. On this subject she drops into 
whatever the grossest pojjular creduHty could imagine in its 
days of madness ; she sees in Mme. de Maintenon, even 
after the death of Louis XIV. and while buried at Saint- 
Cyr, a monopolist of wheat, a poisoner expert in the art of 
a Brinvilliers, a Gorgon, an incendiary who sets fire to the 
chateau de Lun^ville. And after she has exhausted every- 
thing, she adds : " All the evil that has been said of this 
diabohcal woman is still below the truth." She applies to 
her an old German proverb : " Where the devil can't go 
himself he sends an old woman." Saint-Simon, inflamed 
as he is, pales beside this fabulous hatred, and has himself 
told us the secret of it. 

One day, on a memorable occasion, Madame found her- 
self humihated before Mme. de Maintenon, forced to admit 
a wrong she had done her, to make her excuses before 
witnesses, and to say she was gratefully obhged to her. 
This happened on the death of Monsieur (June, 1701). 
Madame, who at that serious crisis had everything to 
obtain from the king both for herself and for her son (and 

2 



18 INTRODUCTION. 

did in fact obtain it), made the effort to lay her dignity 
aside and address herself to Mme. de Maintenon. The latter 
went to see her, and in presence of the Duchesse de Venta- 
dour as witness, she represented to Madame, after listening 
to her, that the king had much reason to complain of her, 
but was willing to overlook it all. Madame, beheviag her- 
self quite safe, protested her innocence ; Mme. de Mainte- 
non, with great self-possession, allowed her to speak to the 
end, and then drew from her pocket a letter, such as 
Madame wrote daily to her aunt the Electress of Hanover, 
in which she spoke ia the most outrageous terms of the 
relations between the king and Mme. de Maintenon. We 
can imagine that Madame, at the sight, nearly died upon 
the spot. 

When the name of the king was laid aside Mme. de 
Maintenon began to speak on her own account, and to 
answer Madame's reproaches for having changed in her 
sentiments towards her. After allowing Madame, as be- 
fore, to say all that she had to say and to commit herself 
to a certain extent, she suddenly quoted to her certain 
secret words particularly offensive to herself, which she 
had known and kept on her heart for ten years, — words 
that were said by Madame to a princess, then dead, who 
had repeated them, word, for word, to Mme. de Maintenon. 
At the fall of this second thunderbolt Madame was turned 
into a statue, and there was silence for some moments. 
Then followed tears, cries, pardon, promises, and a recon- 
ciliation, which, being founded on the cold triumph of 
Mme. de Maintenon and the inward humiliation of Madame, 
could not of course last long. 

It was soon after this scene and duriag the very short 
time that the renewed friendship lasted that Madame wrote 
to Mme. de Maintenon the following letter : — 



INTRODUCTION. 19 

Wednesday, June 15, 11 in the morning. 
If I had not had fever and great agitation, Madame, from 
the sad employment of yesterday, in opening the caskets 
containing Monsieur's papers, scented with the most violent 
perfumes, you would have heard from me earher; but I 
can no longer delay expressing to you how touched I am 
by the favours that the king did yesterday to my son, and 
the manner iu which he has treated both him and myself ; 
and as all this is the result of your good counsels, Madame, 
be pleased to allow me to express my sense of it, and to 
assure you that I shall keep, very inviolably, the promise 
of friendship which I made to you ; I beg you to continue 
to me your counsels and advice, and not to doubt a gratitude 
that can end only with my life. 

Elisabeth Chaelotte. 

Proud as Madame was, there was nothing for her, after such 
a step and such a reconciliation so painful to the core, but to 
become henceforth the intimate and cordial friend of Mme. 
de Maiatenon, or her implacable enemy. The latter senti- 
ment prevailed. In spite of efforts which may have been 
for a time sincere, the conditions and the repugnances were 
too strong; antipathies rose up once more and carried aU 
before them. 

Madame deserves consideration by more than one claim, 
and especially because, having written much, her testimony 
stands and is invoked in many cases. When the present 
edition of letters and fragments of letters by M. Brunet is 
exhausted, why should he not undertake to form a complete 
collection, leaving nothing out that could enrich and en- 
lighten it on the German side, and adding only such notes 
and French erudition as may be strictly necessary ? We 
should then have, not exactly an historical document added 



20 INTEODUCTION. 

to so many others, but a great chronicle of manners and 
morals, a fiery social gossip, by one whom we may call the 
Gui Patin or the Tallemant des Eeaux of the end of the 
seventeenth century and the beginning of the eighteenth. 
We should thus gain a vivid, witty, and ruthless book, 
which would make a pendant to Saint-Simon on more than 
one ground. 

Madame and Saint-Simon have this in common — they 
were two honest souls at Court, honest souls whom indigna- 
tion easily roused ; often passionate, prejudiced, and at such 
times ferocious and pitiless for the adversary. Saint-Simon 
— need it be said ? — has over Madame all the superiority of 
a genius expressly made to sound and fathom hearts, and to 
bring back living descriptions, which he gives us in strokes 
of flame. Madame, often credulous, looking elsewhere, mix- 
ing things up and little critical in her judgments, neverthe- 
less sees well what she does see, and renders it forcibly, with 
a violence which, though little conformed to French taste, is 
none the less imprinted on the memory. They knew each 
other and esteemed each other. They had, without suspect- 
ing it, the same idiosyncrasies, which they observed, recipro- 
cally, in each other ; one was astride of her rank as princess 
and ever on the qui-vive lest it should not be sufficiently 
respected ; the other, as we know, was intractable and even 
fanatical on the chapter of dukes and peers. 

Saint-Simon has spoken of Madame with truth and jus- 
tice, as of a manly nature somewhat in keeping with his own. 
All that we read in Madame's letters, in which she declares 
herself to every eye, is only a sort of demonstration and com- 
mentary of Saint-Simon's judgment upon her. 

Madame was naturally just, humane, compassionate. She 
was very anxious about her debts and her creditors, which 
the great of the earth are not apt to be, and it was noticed 



INTEODUCTION. 21 

that she was never easy unless she had secured their pay- 
ment, — " forestalling demands, sometimes wishes, and always 
impatience or complaints." The letters she writes during 
the terrible winter of 1709 breathe pity for the poor, who 
" are dying of cold like flies." No princess ever had more 
consideration for those who surrounded her and served her ; 
"she preferred sometimes to deprive herself of necessary 
attentions, rather than require them when inconvenient to 
others." She was what is called a good mistress, and the 
nearer her people came to her, the more they regretted her. 
" Sauat-Cloud," she wrote in the autumn of 1717, " is only a 
house for summer; many of my people have to lodge in 
rooms without fireplaces ; they cannot pass the winter here, 
or I should be the cause of their deaths, and I am not 
hard enough for that; the suffermgs of others make me 
pitiful." 

Once only was she pitiless ; but she was wounded then in 
her tenderest spot. Mme. de Maintenon had imported from 
Strasburg {expressly to annoy me, thought Madame) two 
girls of equivocal birth who called themselves Comtesses 
Palatine and whom she placed in the suite of her nieces. 
The first dauphine (Monseigneur's wife, a Princess of 
Bavaria) spoke of this to Madame, weeping, but not daring 
to resent an affront which was aimed at both. "Let me 
settle that," repHed Madame. " 1 11 manage it ; for when I 
am right nothing frightens me." The next day she arranged 
an accidental meeting in the park with one of the two self- 
styled Comtesses Palatine, and treated her in such a manner 
(the astounding terms have been preserved) that the poor girl 
was taken ill, and finally died of it. Louis XIV. contented 
himself with saying to Madame, " It is not safe to meddle 
with you in the matter of your family — life depends upon 
it." To which Madame replied, "I don't like impostors." 



22 INTEODUCTION. 

And she never felt the slightest regret for what she had 
done. The trait is characteristic in a nature that was other- 
wise essentially kind. All vehement passion easily becomes 
cruel when face to face with an object that irritates and 
braves it. In this case the execution performed by Madame 
appeared to her under the form of a rigorous duty of honour. 

The life that Madame led at the Court of France varied, 
necessarily, during the fifty and one years that she spent 
there ; she could not live at the age of sixty as she had done 
at twenty. But at all times, before and after the death of 
Monsieur, she had managed to make for herself a retreat and 
a sort of solitude. The exaggerated and incongruous sides of 
Madame's nature being now sufficiently visible and well 
known, I desire to neglect nothing that wiU show the firm 
and elevated parts of her soul. From Saint-Cloud June 17, 
1698, she writes thus : — 

" I do not need much consolation in the matter of death ; 
I do not desire death, neither do I dread it. There is no 
need of the Catechism of Heidelberg to teach us not to be 
attached to this world ; above all in this country where all 
things are so full of falseness, envy, and malignity, where 
the most unheard-of vices are displayed without reserve. But 
to desire death is a thing entirely against nature. In the 
midst of this great Court I live retired, as if in solitude ; 
there are very few persons with whom I have frequent in- 
tercourse ; I am whole, long days alone in my cabinet, where 
I busy myself in reading and writing. If any one pays me 
a visit I see them for only a few moments ; I talk of rain 
and fine weather or the news of the day ; and after that I 
take refuge in my retreat. Four times a week I send off 
my regular letters : Monday, to Savoie ; Wednesday, to 
Modena ; Thursday and Sunday I write very long letters to 
my aunt in Hanover ; from six to eight o'clock I drive out 



INTRODUCTION. 23 

with Monsieur and my ladies ; three times a week I go to 
Paris, and every day I write to my friends who live there; I 
hunt twice a week ; and this is how I pass my time." 

When she speaks of solitude we see it is a Court solitude 
and much diversified. Still it was remarkable that a woman 
of so grand a station and a princess should spend so many 
hours daily alone in her cabinet in company with her desk. 

After the death of Monsieur, Madame could live more to 
her liking. She regretted being obliged to dismiss her maids- 
of -honour, whose youth and gayety amused her; but she 
gave herself a compensation after her own heart, by taking 
to herself, without official title, two friends, the Mar^chale 
de Cldrembault and the Comtesse de Beuvron, both widows, 
whom Monsieur had dismissed with aversion from the 
Court of the Palais-Eoyal, but to whom Madame had ever 
remained faithful in absence. They were the "friends in 
Paris," to whom she wrote continually. Becoming free her- 
self, she wanted them near her, and henceforth enjoyed, 
almost as a simple private person, that united constant 
friendship in which she trusted. 

Hunting was long one of Madame's greatest pleasures, or 
rather passions. I have said that while a child at Heidelberg 
she gave herself up to all manly exercises. Her father, 
however, forbade her to hunt or to ride on horseback. It 
was in France, therefore, that she served her apprenticeship, 
and her impetuosity often made it dangerous. Twenty- six 
times was she thrown from her horse, without being fright- 
ened or discouraged. " Is it possible," she says, " that you 
have never seen a great hunt ? I have seen more than a 
thousand stags taken, and I have had bad falls ; but out of 
twenty-six times that I have been thrown from my horse I 
never hurt myself but once, and then I dislocated my 
elbow." 



24 INTRODUCTION. 

The theatre was another passion, which, in her, was de- 
rived from intelligence and her natural taste for things of 
the understanding. It was the only pleasure (except that of 
writing letters) which lasted to the end of her life. She was 
not of the opinion of Bossuet, Bourdaloue, and other great 
religious oracles of the day in the matter of theatres ; she 
forestalled the opinion of the future and that of the most 
indulgent moralists. " With regard to the priests who 
forbid the theatre," she says, rather irreverently, " I shall say 
no more, except this, that if they saw a little further than 
their own noses they would understand that the money 
people spend on going to the play is not ill-spent ; in the 
first place, the comedians are poor devUs who earn their 
living that way ; and next, comedies inspire joy, joy produces 
health, health gives strength, strength produces good work ; 
therefore comedies should be encouraged, and not forbidden," 
She liked to laugh, and the " Malade Imaginaire " diverted 
her to such a degree that one might think in reading her 
letters that she was trying to imitate all that is most physical 
and unfit for women in its style of pleasantry. And yet 
" the ' Malade Imaginaire ' is not the one of Moliere's plays 
that I like best," she says ; " Tartuffe pleases me better." 
And in another letter : " I cannot write longer, for I am 
called to go to the theatre ; I am to see the ' Misanthrope,* 
the one of Molifere's plays that gives me the most pleas- 
ure." She admired Corneille and quotes the "Death of 
Pompey." I do not know whether she liked " Esther," but 
she must surely have loved Shakespeare. "I have often 
heard his Highness, our father," she writes to her half-sister, 
" say that there are no comedies in the world finer than those 
of the English." 

After the death of Monsieur and during the last years 
of Louis XIV. she adopted a way of life that was very 



INTRODUCTION. 25 

precise and retired. "I live here quite deserted (May 3, 
1709) for everybody, young and old, runs after favour. The 
Maintenon cannot endure me, and the Duchesse de Bourgogne 
likes only what that lady likes." She became at last ab- 
solutely a hermit in the midst of the Court. " I consort with 
no one here, except my own people ; I am as polite as I can 
be to everybody, but I contract no intimate relations with 
any one, and I Uve alone ; I go to walk, I go to drive, but 
from two o'clock to half-past nine I never see a human 
face ; I read, I write, or I amuse myself in making baskets 
like the one I sent my aunt." Sometimes, however, to en- 
liven this long interval from two o'clock to half -past nine, 
her ladies would play at homhre or hrSlan beside her writing- 
table. 

The regency of her son brought the Court again around 
Madame ; and her more frequent residence in Paris allowed 
her less retreat than she was able to make at Versailles. 
Sometimes, in the morning, half a dozen duchesses would 
take up her time and cut short her correspondence. She 
detested their conversations of mere politeness, in which 
they talked without having anything to say. " I would 
rather be alone than have to give myself the trouble of 
finding something to say to each of them ; for the French 
think it very bad if you do not talk to them, and go away 
discontented ; one must therefore take pains to say some- 
thing to each ; and so I am content and tranquil when they 
leave me to myself." She made exception with less annoy- 
ance when it was a question of Germans of high rank, who 
all wished to be presented to her, and whom she greeted 
very well. At times there were as many as twenty-nine 
German princes, counts, and gentlemen in her apartment. 

One evening she made a scene before all present to the 
Duchesse de Berry, her granddaughter, who had appeared be- 



26 INTEODUCTION. 

fore her in a loose gown, or rather in fancy dress, intending 
to go to the Tuileries in such array. "No, madame," she 
said, cutting short all explanation, "nothing excuses you; 
you might at least dress yourself properly the few times you 
do go to see the king ; I, who am your grandmother, dress 
myself every day. Say honestly it is laziness that prevents 
you from doing so ; which belongs neither to your age nor 
to your station. A princess should be dressed as a princess, 
and a soubrette as a soubrette." While saying all this and 
not listening to the reply of the Duchesse de Berry, Madame 
went on writing her letter in German, her pen never ceasing 
to scratch the paper. The table on which she wrote was a 
secretary somewhat raised, so that in her pausing moments 
she could, without rising from her seat, look down upon the 
game of the players beside her. " That was her occupation 
if she ceased to write, but when any one came in and ap- 
proached her she would leave everything to ask them, ' What 
news ? ' and as the giving of news made every one welcome, 
people invented it when there was none to tell. No sooner 
had she heard it than, without examination, she turned to 
the letter already begun and wrote down the tale she had 
just been told." It is thus that, side by side with things 
that she sees well and says well, and which are in truth the 
expression of her own thought, her letters contain much else 
that is simply malignant gossip and trash. 

In the days of Louis XIV. letters were unsealed at the 
post-office, read, and extracts made and sent to the king, and 
sometimes to Mme. de Maintenon. Madame knew that, but 
went her way in spite of it, using her privilege as princess 
to tell truths without reserve, and even to write insults on 
those who, unsealing the letters, would find her opinion of 
them. " In the days of M. de Louvois," she writes, " they 
read all letters just as they do now, but at least they sent 



INTRODUCTION. 27 

them on in decent time ; but now that that toad of a Torcy 
directs the post-office, letters are delayed for an interminable 
length of time. ... As Torcy does not know how to read 
German he has to have them translated, and I don't thank 
him for his attention," M. de Torcy must have enjoyed 
that passage. 

Among the tastes, or fancies, which together with her 
letter-writing served to fill and amuse the long hours of Ma- 
dame's solitude, we must reckon two parrots, a canary, and 
eight little dogs. " After my dinner I walk my room for half 
an hour for the sake of digestion, and play with my little 
animals." A nobler taste was that of coins, which Madame 
had to a high degree. She collected them from all parts of 
the world, and no one could pay their court more delicately 
than by bringing her a specimen. The collection that she 
thus formed was celebrated. She confided the care of it to 
the learned Baudelot, who had all the erudition and naivete 
of an antiquary, and with whom she sometimes amused her- 
self. " One study alone,"''says one of her eulogists, " attracted 
her — that of coins. Her series of the emperors of the 
upper and lower empire, which she collected with judgment 
and arranged with care, placed before her eyes all that was 
most to be respected in past ages. While examining the 
features on the coins she recalled the salient points of their 
owners' actions, filling her mind with noble ideas of Koman 
greatness." I do not know whether in forming her cabinet 
of coins Madame had any such lofty and stern views, but at 
any rate, in this most remarkable of her tastes she showed 
herself the mother of the regent, — that is to say, of the most 
brilhant and best-informed of amateurs. 

There is a serious side in the letters of Madame : that by 
which she judges the morals, the personages, and the society 
of the regency. She had some trouble in breaking herself 



28 INTRODUCTION. 

in to that new style of life, and to a residence in the city and 
the Palais-Eoyal. " I like the Parisians," she writes, " but I 
do not like to live in their town." She had accustomed her- 
self, during her long seasons at Saint-Cloud, to a measure of 
retreat, companionship, and liberty which suited her nature, 
and I shall even say, her semi-philosophy. When she re- 
turned there she felt herself in her element. " I find myself 
well at Saint-Cloud, where I am tranquil (1718) ; whereas in 
Paris I am never left an instant in peace. This one presents 
me a petition, that one asks me to interest myself on his 
behalf, another sohcits an audience, and so forth. In this 
world great people have their worries like little ones, which 
is not surprising ; but what makes it worse for the great is 
that they are always surrounded by a crowd, so that they 
can not hide their griefs, or indulge them in solitude — they 
are always on exhibition." 

That regret was in her a most sincere one. The power of 
her son brought her little influence, and she wanted none, 
save for the sake of a few private benefits. She asked him 
for nothing ; she never meddled in public affairs or politics, 
and piqued herself on not understanding them. " I have no 
ambition," she said (August, 1719) ; " I do not wish to govern ; 
I should take no pleasure in it. It is not so with French 
women; the lowest servant-woman thinks herself quite 
fitted to rule the State. I think it so ridiculous that I am 
quite cured of all mania of that kind." 

She views like a virtuous woman the debauchery of the 
period, and that of her family, and she expresses the deep 
disgust she feels for it. The regent has never been better 
painted than he is by his mother ; she shows him to us with 
his facile faculties, his interests of all kinds, his talents, his 
individual genius, his graces, his indulgence for all, even for 
his enemies ; she denounces the one great capital fault that 



INTRODUCTION. 29 

ruined tdm, — that ardent debauchery at a fixed hour, in 
which he buried himself and was lost to sight until the next 
morning. "All advice, all remonstrance on that subject," 
she writes, " are useless ; when spoken to he answers, ' From 
six o'clock in the morning till night I am subjected to pro- 
longed and fatiguing labour ; if I did not amuse myself after 
that I could not bear it, I should die of melancholy.' I pray 
God sincerely for his conversion," she adds, " he has no 
other fault than that, but that is great." She shows him to 
us as a libertine even in matters of science, that is, curious 
and amorous of all he saw, but disgusted with aU he pos- 
sessed. " Though he talks of learned things, I see plainly 
that instead of giving him pleasure they bore him. I have 
often scolded him for this ; he answers it is not his fault ; 
that he does take pleasure in learning all things, but as 
soon as he knows them he has no further pleasure in them." 
The most characteristic passages in her letters are of things 
that cannot be detached and cited singly. Never did the 
effrontery and gluttony of women of all ranks, the cupidity 
of everybody, the shameless traffic and cynical thirst for 
gold, find a firmer or more vigorous hand to catch them 
in the act and blast them. Madame, in treating of these 
excesses, has a species of virtuous immodesty Hke that of 
Juvenal; or rather, issuing from her Bible readings, she 
applies to present scandals the energy of the sacred text, 
and qualifies them in the language of the patriarchs. " How 
many times," says one of her eulogists whom I hke to quote, 
"how many times she condemned the bold neghgence of 
attire which favoured corruption, and the taste for liberty 
and caprice — the fatal charm which our nation has crimi- 
nally invented ! Indecent fashions, which ancient decorum 
cannot away with, would often bring upon her face and in 
her eyes the emotion and fire of outraged modesty." It was 



30 INTRODUCTION. 

not a mere sentiment of etiquette wliich made her rebuke 
her granddaughter, the Duchesse de Berry, on her dishabille, 
but another and a more estimable sentiment. Even where she 
is not outraged she gives details which make her smile with 
pity. " It is only too true that the women paint themselves 
blue veias to make believe their skins are so dehcate the 
veins show through them." 

The Due de Kicheheu, a young dandy who turned all the 
heads of the day, and whom our writers, at their wits' end, 
have lately endeavoured to restore to fashion in novels and 
plays, was to Madame an object of extreme aversion ; she 
paints him with the hand of a master, as absolutely contemp- 
tible, with all his equivocal and frivolous charms, his varnish 
of politeness, and his vices. It is a portrait to read, and I 
should hke to quote it here, but I am restrained by respect 
for the great men, and for the honourable men, who have 
made that name of Eicheheu so French. Without going be- 
yond general observations what can be more just and more 
sensible than the following reflection of Madame, written a few 
months before her death (April, 1722) ? " Young men, at the 
epoch in which we live, have but two objects in view, — de- 
bauchery and lucre ; the absorption of their minds on money- 
getting, no matter by what means, makes them dull and 
disagreeable; in order to be agreeable, people must have 
their minds free of care, and also have the wish to give 
themselves up to amusement in decent company ; but these 
are things that are very far away from us now-a-days." 
With a presentiment of her coming end, she asks of God 
only his mercy to herself and her children, especially her 
son. " May it please God to convert him ! that is the 
sole favour that I ask of Him. I do not beheve that 
there are in Paris, either among ecclesiastics or people of 
the world, one hundred persons who have a true Christian 



INTEODUCTION. 31 

faith, and really believe in our Saviour; and that makes 
me tremble." 

The people of Paris recognized in Madame a princess of 
honour and integrity, incapable of giving bad advice or 
employing selfish influence ; consequently, she was in great 
favour with the Parisians ; more than she deserved, she said, 
meddling so little as she did in their affairs. Even amid 
the riots and the execrations roused by the catastrophes 
at the close of Law's system, Madame, as she drove through 
the streets, received none but benedictions — which she 
would gladly have transferred to her son. She noticed as 
a mother on that occasion that if the cries were loud against 
Law, they were at least not shouted against the regent. But 
there were other days when the murmurs against her son 
reached her ears, and she complains of the ingratitude of 
Frenchmen towards him. She was not, however, without 
admitting to herself the element of weakness in his govern- 
ment; she tells it and repeats it constantly. "It is very 
true," she says, " that it is better to be kind than harsh, but 
justice consists in punishing, as well as in rewarding ; and 
it is certain that he who does not make Frenchmen fear 
him will soon fear them ; for they despise those who do 
not intimidate them." She knows the nation, and judges 
it as one who is not of it. 

On one point Madame sacrificed to the spirit of the 
regency and was in curious contradiction to herself. She 
took a great liking to a natural son of the regent, whom he 
had by an opera-dancer named Florence ; she said he re- 
minded her of the " late Monsieur," only with a better figure. 
In short, she loved the young man, whom she called her 
Abb^ de Saitit-Albin. He was afterwards Archbishop of 
Cambrai, and when he made his argument before the 
Sorbonne (February, 1718) she was present in great state. 



32 INTRODUCTION. 

thus declaring, and also honouring, the illegitimate birth of 
this grandson. Madame deserted on that day all her ortho- 
dox principles about the duties of rank, and allowed herself 
to follow her fancies. 

She died at the age of seventy at Saint-Cloud, December 
8, 1722, ten days after her faithful friend, the Mar^chale 
de Cl^rembault, and one year before her son, the regent. 
According to her own wish, she was taken to Saint-Denis 
without pomp. The obsequies were performed in the fol- 
lowing February. Massillon, whom she knew and loved, 
pronounced her funeral oration, which was thought fine. 
Pfere Cathalan, a Jesuit, pronounced another at Laon in 
March, from which I have taken certain traits of her 
character. 

Such as she is, with all her coarseness and her contra- 
dictions on a basis of virtue and honour, Madame is a useful, 
a precious, and an incomparable witness as to manners and 
morals. She gives a hand to Saint-Simon and to Dangeau 
— nearer, however, to the former than to the latter. She 
has heart ; do not ask charm of her, but say : " That Court 
would have lacked the most original of figures and of voices 
if Madame had not been of it." Arriving at Versailles at 
the moment when the La Valhfere star dechned and was 
eclipsed, and seeing only the last of the brilliant years, 
she enters little into that era of refinement which touches 
the imagination ; but lacking that refinement, and solely 
through her frankness, she lays bare to us the second half 
of Louis XIV.'s reign under its human, most human, natural, 
and — to say the whole truth — its material aspect. She 
strips that great century of its idealism, she strips it too 
much ; she goes almost to the point of degrading it — if 
we listen to her alone. As time goes on, and the delicacy 
and purity of manners and language retire more and more 



INTEODUCTION. 33 

into Mme. de Maintenon's corner and seek at last a refuge 
at Saint-Cyr, Madame holds herself aloof at Saint-Cloud, 
and again aloof in the Palais-Eoyal, and thence — whether 
at the close of Louis XIV.'s reign or under the regency — 
she makes, lance in hand, and her pen behind her ear, 
valiant and frequent sorties in that blunt style which 
is all her own, which wears a beard upon its chin, and 
of which we know not rightly whether it derives from 
Luther or from Eabelais, though we are very sure it is the 
opposite of that of Mme. de Caylus and her like. 



TEANSLATOE'S NOTE. 

Sainte-Beuve, in his essay on Madame, suggested to the 
French editor of her letters that he should make a more 
complete collection of them. M. Brunet professes to have 
done so in the edition from which this translation is selected.^ 
But when examined the additions prove very insignificant, 
and the arrangement, though apparently more chronological, 
interferes with the interest of the reader. Passages which 
seem to belong together are cut up iato sentences and 
scattered singly over weeks and months ; so that the point 
of Madame's racy representations is often weakened. In 
this translation parts of the letters of each year on a given 
topic are put together, so as to offer a better picture of 
Madame's thought ; as for her nature, she gives that herself, 
and no one can better the portrait. 

Nothing need be added to Sainte-Beuve's admirable essay 
beyond a brief accoimt of Madame's parentage, family re- 
lations, and the history, such as it is, of her correspondence. 

She was born at Heidelberg in 1652. Soon after her 
birth, her father, Charles-Louis, Elector Palatine, parted 
from his wife, Charlotte of Hesse-Cassel, and the little 
daughter, Elisabeth-Charlotte, was given to the care of her 
father's sister, Sophia, Electress of Hanover (mother of 
George I. of England) ; with whom she remained until her 

1 Correspondance Complete de Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans, ne'e 
Princesse Palatine, Mere du Kegent; traduction entierement nouvelle, 
par M, G. Brunet. Paris : Charpentier, 1891. 

2 



36 TRANSLATOR'S NOTE. 

marriage, against her wishes, in 1671, to Monsieur, brother 
of Louis XIV., after the death of his first wife, Henrietta, 
daughter of Charles I. of England. The marriage was politi- 
cal, — Louis XIV. seeking to acquire rights in the Palatinate, 
and subsequently in Bavaria. 

The father of Elisabeth-Charlotte, after parting from his 
wife, married morganatically Louise de Degenfeld, by whom 
he had five sons and three daughters, — these children being 
of course excluded from the succession. Madame, in her 
ill-assorted and personally mortifying marriage, of which 
she bravely strove to make the best, found all her comfort 
in writing letters, a very small portion of which have been 
preserved. All those addressed during her married life to 
her beloved aunt, the Electress of Hanover, have dis- 
appeared, probably destroyed by the judicious aunt herself, 
for Madame alludes to them as containing secrets she did 
not write to others. Among the many personages to whom 
she wrote habitually were : Duke Antoine Ulrich of Bruns- 
wick; her two unmarried half-sisters, Louise and Am^lie, 
Countesses Palatine ; her step-daughters, to whom she was 
warmly attached, Marie-Louise, wife of Charles II., King of 
Spain, and Anne-Marie, wife of Victor-Amadeus, Duke of 
Savoie and King of Sardinia and Sicily (the mother of 
Marie-Adelaide, Duchesse de Bourgogne) ; and her own 
daughter, the Duchesse de Lorraine. Besides these, she had 
a number of correspondents on the other side of the Ehine, 
such as her cousins the Queen of Prussia and the Duchess 
of Modena ; her old governess in Hanover ; Leibnitz in 
Leipzig ; also the Princess of Wales, WiUielmina-Carolhie of 
Brandebourg-Anspach, in London. 

Of these letters (scarcely any remaining extant except 
those to her half-sisters) fragments first appeared at Stuttgard 
in 1789, subsequently in Paris, in 1807, 1823, 1832. In 



TRANSLATOE'S NOTE. 37 

1843 the first edition ia a volume was published at Stuttgard 
by M. Wolfgang Menzel, a translation of which by M. 
Brunet appeared ia Paris ia 1853. That translation was 
made from the German volume, the original letters having 
disappeared in a conflagration. A subsequent edition, with 
a few insignificant additions as mentioned above, appeared 
a few years later, from the last issue of which the present 
translation has been selected. 

M. Brunet remarks in his preface, that " Madame had 
the habit of reproducing almost in the same terms the de- 
tails which she gave of the same events to diverse persons. 
She wrote with extreme rapidity, passing, without any 
transition, from one subject to another, piling up useless 
words and insignificant particulars which it would be quite 
absurd to try to reproduce. Expressions of regret at the 
deaths or the illnesses of Madame's numerous relatives, in- 
termiaable protestations of friendship, wearisome repetitions, 
swelled beyond all measure the letters that came into the 
hands of M. Menzel, who cut off two-thirds of them, pre- 
serving such parts only as had a more or less general interest 
and an historical value." 

The following letters are almost exclusively addressed to 
her half-sisters, and chiefly to the Comtesse Louise, the 
Comtesse Amdlie having died in 1709. The names of her 
correspondents do not precede the letters in the French 
edition, except in a few instances. 

Madame needs no interpreter, for even her vituperative 
faculty conveys its own correction ; her hatred to Mme. de 
Maintenon becomes amusing, and we are quite able to see 
the justice and the injustice of it. Her favourite term for 
her enemy is, however, so outrageous (la vieille guenipe, the 
old slut, or any such equivalent — once she descends to 
saying la vieille truie) that it is more agreeable to the reader 



38 TEANSLATOE'S NOTE. 

to keep tlie word in French than to constantly repeat it ia 
English. 

Madame died on the 8th of December, 1722, at the age 
of seventy, just one year before the death of her son, the 
regent. She was buried in Saint-Denis, and Massillon pro- 
nounced her funeral oration. 

The letters of Adelaide de Savoie, Duchesse de Bourgogne 
and dauphine, are of little value, as the reader will see, if 
judged historically, or as a document on the manners and 
customs of a period. They are placed here as a contem- 
porary record of a tender and pathetic young life on its 
passage, through frivolity and ill-health, to a premature 
death just as age had corrected her defects, and the pros- 
pect of being, with her husband, the blessing and salvation 
of France was dawning before her. 

Sainte-Beuve possessed a natural spirit of justice which 
led him (though it did not invariably rule him) to satisfy 
his literary conscience by returning to the portraits of his 
personages to correct, modify, and balance his first impres- 
sions. It is in this spirit that his picture of Mme. de 
Mahitenon and Saint-Cyr, followed by a number of her own 
letters and papers on that section of her life, are given 
here to succeed the prejudiced statements of her two greatest 
enemies, Saint-Simon and Madame. The picture of Saint- 
Cyr stands apart in Mme. de Maintenon's career in a frame 
of its own ; it shows her at her very best and as she herself 
would fain appear to posterity. It is the other extreme of 
the portraiture, and the reader must form his own judgment 
as to how the full truth of the nature and conduct of this 
remarkable woman can be evolved. 



COERESPONDENCE OF MADAME. 



I. 

Lettees of 1695-1714 

To her sister Louise, Comtesse Palatine. 

Versailles, 1695. 

King James of England is not willing that we should wear 
mourning for his daughter [Mary] ; he has vehemently in- 
sisted that nothing of the kind should be done. He is not 
at all moved by this death, which surprises me, for I should 
think a man could not forget his children, no matter what 
wrongs he has against them; blood must surely keep its 
strength. From the portrait they made me of Prince [King] 
William, I should not have thought he was so much attached 
to his wife ; and I like him for it. 

I am very glad to hear that Charles-Maurice [her half- 
brother] loves me, though he has never seen me ; that is the 
effect of blood. It is not surprising that I love him, for I 
saw him come into the world ; and besides, I have always 
retained such respect for his Highness our father that I love 
all those who are his children. I wish that Charles-Maurice 
may soon be made a colonel. We die when our time comes ; 
Maurice will not live beyond the period that fate assigns 
him, whether he stays at Court or goes to war. He had 
better follow his inclination, for all that is done from liking 
is better done than when one yields to constraint. 



40 CORRESPONDENCE OF 

We have here a Comte de Nassau, a very brave man and 
much respected. He holds a patent from the emperor au- 
thorizing him to take the title of prince ; but he makes no 
use of it, for which I think very weU of him. Dancing has 
gone out of fashion everywhere. Here, in France, as soon 
as the company assemble they do nothing but play lansque- 
net ; that is the game in vogue ; even the young people do 
not care to dance. As for me, I do neither. I am much too 
old to dance, which I have not done since the death of our 
father. I never play cards for two reasons : first, I have no 
money; and next, I don't like gambling. They play here 
for frightful sums, and the players are like madmen ; one 
howls, another strikes the table so hard that the room re- 
sounds, a third blasphemes in such a way that one's hair 
stands on end, and they aU seem beside themselves and are 
terrifying to see. 

I beg you to greet for me all our old friends in the Palat- 
inate; I curse this war to-day more than ever. My poor 
son, who has been seriously ill and is still taking quinine, 
was engaged in that affair when Mardchal de Yilleroy fell 
upon the rear-guard of the Prince de Vaudemont and put 
four battalions to flight. Though my son has had the luck 
to escape a wound, I tremble lest fatigue should bring back 
his fever. A good peace is much to be desired. 

I regard it as great praise that people should say I have a 
German heart and that I love my country ; I shall en- 
deavour, by the grace of God, to deserve that praise to my 
last day. I have indeed a German heart, for I cannot con- 
sole myself for what is happening in that unfortunate Palat- 
inate ; I cannot think about it ; it makes me sad all day. 
Next Saturday I return, with regret, to Paris, which I think 
very disagreeable. 

There is nothing in the world so miserable as the fate of a 



MADAME. 41 

Queen of Spain ; I know this by the late queen, who used 
to write me day by day the existence that she led. It is 
even worse in Portugal, and it shows the truth of the proverb 
that all is not gold that glitters. 

I was too old when I came to France to change my char- 
acter, the foundations were laid. There is nothing surprising 
in that ; but I should be inexcusable if I were false and did 
not love the persons for whom I ought to feel an attachment. 
You have reason to think that I write as I think ; I am too 
frank to write otherwise. The good Duchesse de Guise, 
cousin of the king and of Monsieur, died five days ago. I 
have felt much afflicted ; she was a worthy, pious woman ; 
we dined together every day. There was only an ante- 
chamber between my room and her cabinet. She kept her 
mind till the last moment, and died tranquilly, without 
regrets. 

Versailles, 1697. 

If I had not heard from my aunt that you were going to 
Holland, I should have been quite surprised at getting your 
letter from the Hague. My health is now pretty good ; as 
usual, I have driven away the fever by hunting. I have had 
the satisfaction to do some service to the prisoners who have 
been brought here. I cannot do much, but I shall spare no 
pains to be useful to compatriots who may need me. 

I remember the Hague perfectly ; I always thought it a 
very agreeable city, but the air is not as good as it is in the 
Palatinate and everything is so very dear in Holland. King 
William is not at Loo, but at the head of his army ; God 
grant there may not be a battle, for I can't help trembling at 
the thought of it because of my son. The fate of those good 
people of the Palatinate makes me wretched ; but I can do 
nothing to prevent it. Let us all unite in prayers for 
peace, for it is indeed very needful. 



42 CORRESPONDENCE OE 

It is deplorable that the priests have brought it about 
that Christians are divided one against another. If I had 
my way, the three Christian religions should form but one ; 
we should not ask what people beUeved, but whether 
they lived in accordance with the Gospel, and the priests 
should preach against those who lead bad lives. Chris- 
tians ought to be allowed to marry and go to church where 
they like ; and then there would be more harmony than 
there is now. 

I thiak so well of King William that I would rather have 
him for a son-in-law than the Emperor of Germany. I can 
say with truth of my daughter that she has no idea of co- 
quetry or gallantry ; in that respect she gives me no anxiety, 
and I think I shall never have anything to fear ; she is not 
handsome, but she has a pretty figure, a good face, and good 
feelings. I am convinced that she will stay an old maid, for, 
according to all appearance, King William will marry the 
Princess of Denmark. I fancy that the emperor will take 
the second Princess of Savoie, and the Due de Lorraine the 
daughter of the emperor, so that no one will be left for my 
daughter. 

I don't know if you remember how gay I was in my 
youth ; all that has gone ; I have been more than six weeks 
without laughing even once. The theatre is what amuses 
me the most. If you knew all that goes on here you would 
certainly not be surprised that I am no longer gay. Another 
in my place would have been dead of grief this long while ; 
as for me, I only grow fat upon it. 

Saint-Cloud. 

I received two weeks ago your letter of May 21, but I 
could not answer it, for I was not in a state to write, and 
Mile, de Eathsamhausen [her lady-of-honour] spells so badly 







^ 



v:^'^ 



MADAME. 43 

that I do not care to dictate to her.^ I must tell you what 
lias happened to me. Once a month I go with Monsei- 
gneur the dauphin to hunt a wolf. It had rained ; the 
ground was slippery ; we had searched for a wolf two hours 
without finding one, and then started for another point, where 
we hoped to do better. As we were following a wood-path a 
wolf sprang up just in front of my horse, which was fright- 
ened and reared on its hind legs and shpped and fell over on 
its right side, and my elbow coming in contact with a big 
stone was dislocated. They looked for the king's surgeon 
who was with the hunt, but could not find him, for his horse 
had lost a shoe and he had gone to a village to have it put 
on. A peasant said there was a very skilful barber two 
leagues off who set legs and arms every day of his life ; 
when I heard he had such experience I got into a calfeche 
and was driven to him — not without very great pain. As 
soon as he had set my arm I suffered nothing and drove back 
here at once. My surgeon and Monsieur's surgeon examined 
the hurt. I think they were rather jealous that a poor 
countryman had done the thing so well. They bandaged my 
arm again and made me suffer beyond measure; my hand 
swelled up in a horrible manner ; I could not move my wrist 
or hft my hand to my mouth. 

It is very true that celibacy is the best condition ; the 
best of men is not worth the devil. Love in marriage is 
no longer the fashion, and is thought ridiculous. The Catho- 
lics here say in their catechism that marriage is a sacrament, 
but, in point of fact, they hve with their wives as if it were 
no sacrament at all, and, what is worse, nothing is more 
approved than to see men have gallantries and desert their 
wives — But not to enlarge upon this subject, I will talk 
to you about my wolf. 

1 Madame's own spelling could hardly be -worse; she always spells 
Saint-Cloud " Saint-Clou." — T^. 



44 COKRESPONDENCE OF 

You have heard by this time that peace has been signed 
with the emperor and the empire ; that is a great step towards 
a general peace. I do not think that war will break out in 
Poland, for it is not at all certain that our Prince de Conti 
will go there ; he may renounce it, which I think would be 
much better for him than the crown of Poland ; it is a savage, 
dirty country, and the nobles are too ambitious. 

These are dangerous times for young men, and they would 
do better to go and seek honour in war than stay here doing 
nothing and leading the most dissolute lives, for which, be it 
said between you and me, my son has but too great a Hking. 
He says he has taste only for women and not for other de- 
bauchery, which is as common here as it is in Italy, and 
therefore he thinks we ought to praise him and be grateful 
to him ; but his behaviour does not please me at all. 

Those who do not know the exact situation of things here 
imagine that the king and Court are just what they used to 
be ; but everything is changed in a sorry way. If any one 
who had left the Court at the time of the queen's death re- 
turned here now he would think he had stepped into another 
world. There is much to be said about this, but I cannot 
confide it to paper, because all letters are opened and read. 
My aunt used to say that everybody here below is a demon 
charged to torment somebody else ; and that is very true. 
"We know that all things are the result of the will of God, 
and happen as He has fixed from all eternity, but the Al- 
mighty not having consulted us on what He meant to do, we 
are in ignorance of the causes of what we see going on 
about us. 

FONTAINEBLEAU, 1698. 

I have not written to you for several days because I have 
been to Montargis, whence we have come back here, where 
we found the courier who brought us the dispensation for 



MADAME. 45 

my daughter's marriage. It will take place Monday next 
and two days later she will start. [Mile, de Chartres 
married Leopold, Due de Lorraine, and was the mother of 
Francis I., Emperor of Germany, the husband of Maria 
Theresa.] You can easily imagine that my heart is full, 
and that I am nearer to weeping than laughing, for my 
daughter and I have never been separated, and now we are 
to part for a long time. My eyes are full of tears, but I 
must hide them; otherwise people would laugh at me, for 
in this country they do not understand how it is that per- 
sons should love their relations. One repents very soon of 
speaking out one's thoughts, and that is why I live such a 
solitary life. You are very happy in being able to laugh 
still ; it is a long time since I have done so, though formerly 
I used to laugh more than any one. Persons have only to 
marry in France and the desire to laugh will soon leave 
them. 

The King of England is not, I think, in much of a hurry 
to be married. That monarch is certainly, on account of 
his merit, one of the greatest kings that ever wore a crown ; 
but between ourselves, if I were maid or widow and he did 
me the honour to want to marry me, I would rather pass my 
life in celibacy than become the greatest queen in the world 
on condition of taking a husband, for marriage has become 
to me an object of horror. 

What is worse in this country than in England is 
that all the persons who conduct themselves iH, men and 
women, devote themselves to politics and seek to intrigue 
at Court, which leads to much perfidy and deception. 
In whatever country we live, if we are married we must 
drive jealousy out of our hearts, for it does no good ; we 
must wash our hands in innocency and keep our conscience 
pure, although we may have no pleasant intercourse and 



46 CORRESPONDENCE OF 

nothing but long and weary hours of ennui. I do not fret 
myself now about the way the world goes on ; I despise it, 
and I have little taste for being in society. One hears of 
nothing just now but tragical events ; they have lately con- 
demned five women who killed their husbands ; others killed 
themselves. 

Nothing is so rare in France as Christian faith ; there is 
no longer any vice of which persons are ashamed. If the 
king wanted to punish all those who are guilty of the worst 
vices he would find no more princes or nobles or servants 
about him ; there would not be a family ui France that was 
not in mourning. 

FONTAINEBLBAU, 1699. 

I receive sometimes very friendly letters from the Queen 
of Spain [wife of Charles II.]. I am sorry that poor queen 
is so unhappy. It would be a great blessing for Europe if 
she could have a child, boy or girl would do, provided it 
lived ; for one does not need to be a prophet to divine that if 
the King of Spain dies without children a terrible war will 
arise ; all the Powers will claim the succession, and none of 
them will yield to any of the others ; nothing but a war 
can decide. 

I have heard with grief of the conduct of Charles-Maurice 
in Berlin ; if he behaves in that way we shaU not continue 
good friends. I am very angry to know that he is dead- 
drunk nearly half the day. If I thought that scolding him 
very severely would correct him I would write to him. It 
is distressing to think that the only remaining son of our 

father should be a drunkard. 

Maelt, 1700. 

It is not a mere tale that the King of Morocco has asked 
in marriage the Princesse de Conti [daughter of Louis XIV. 
and Louise de la Valliere], but the king repulsed the pro- 



MADAME. 47 

posal sharply. That princess was extremely beautiful before 
she had the small-pox, but her illness has greatly changed 
her. She still has a perfect figure and charming carriage, 
and dances admirably ; I never saw any engraved portrait 
that was like her. 

I can understand why people go to Eome, like my cousin 
the Landgrave of Cassel, to see the antiquities, but I cannot 
imagine that they should go to be present at all those priests' 
ceremonies, for nothing is more tiresome. Perhaps some 
people go for the thirty thousand dames galantes who are 
said to be there ; but those who like such merchandise have 
only to come to France, where they will find them in abun- 
dance. Those who want to repent of their sins need not go 
to Eome ; to repent sincerely in their own homes is quite as 
profitable. Here no one cares about Eome or the pope ; 
they are quite convinced they can get to heaven without him. 

I seldom see Monsieur here [Marly] ; we do not dine 
together ; he plays cards all day, and at night we are each 
in our own room. Monsieur has the weakness to think that 
when he is overlooked at cards he has ill-luck ; so I never 
assist at his games. He has frightened us very much by 
having a quartan fever; this is the day it is due to return, 
but, thanks to God, he feels nothing of it yet, and he is in 
the salon, playing cards. 

All letters entering or leaving France are opened ; I know 
that very well, but it does not trouble me; I continue to 
write what comes into my head. 

To Madame de Maintenon. 

Saint-Cloud, June 15, 1701,i 

If I had not had fever and great agitation, Madame, from 

the sad employment of yesterday in opening the caskets of 

1 Monsieur had died on the 9th of June, and the scene between Madame 
and Mme. de Maintenon had taken place in the interim. — Tb. 



48 COREESPONDENCE OF 

Monsieur's papers, scented with the most violent perfumes, 
you would have heard from me earher ; but I can no longer 
delay expressing to you how touched I am by the favours 
that the king did yesterday to my son, and the manner in 
which he has treated both him and myself; and as all this 
is the result of your good counsels, Madame, be pleased to 
aUow me to express my sense of it and to assure you that I 
shall keep, very inviolably, the promise of friendship which 
I made to you ; I beg you to continue to me your counsels 
and advice, and not to doubt a gratitude which can end only 
with my life. 

To Louise^ Comtesse Palatine. 

Veksailles, July 15, 1701. 

My health is stUl much weakened ; this is the first time 
for eight days that the fever has left me. Since the blow 
that struck me I have had eighteen paroxysms of fever, and 
I thought it was the will of God to end my sad hfe ; but it 
was not so. I am left with great lassitude and weakness 
of the legs, which I attribute to the shock of Monsieur's 
death ; they continued to tremble for twenty-four hours as 
if from a violent attack of fever. Nothing could have been 
more dreadful than what I witnessed. At nine o'clock in 
the evening Monsieur left my room, gay and laughing ; at 
half-past ten they called me, and I found him almost un- 
conscious ; but he recognized me and said a few words with 
much difficulty. I stayed the whole night beside him, and 
the next morning at six o'clock, when there was no longer 
any hope, they carried me away unconscious. 

I am grateful to you for the share you take in my misfor- 
tune, which is dreadful, and I thank you with aU my heart. 
I beg you to let the Queen-dowager of Denmark know how 



MADAME. 49 

much. I am touched that her Majesty has remembered me 
in my trouble. 

I have need to find, in my sad situation, something to 
divert my thoughts ; everything is forbidden to me at 
present except walking; my greatest comfort is the kind- 
ness of the king, of which he continues to give me many 
proofs. He comes to see me and takes me to walk with 
him. Saturday was the day when Monsieur was interred, 
and though I was not present, I wept much, as you can well 
imagine. 

I have every reason to rejoice in the king's favour, and so 
has my son, whom the king has made a very great seigneur. 
I am well pleased for him ; we live happily together ; he is 
a good lad with very good feelings. 

October, 1701. 

My health is now perfect, and to keep it so I drive out as 
much as I can. All the others hunt daily with the king, and 
go twice a week to the theatre. I am deprived of those 
things, as you know, and between ourselves, it is not a little 
privation to be obliged to forego those two amusements. I 
walk out often on foot and go a good three miles in the 
forest ; that disperses the melancholy that would otherwise 
crush me ; especially when I hear talk about public affairs of 
which I had previously never heard a word in all my life. I 
should be very fortunate if I could understand them as you 
do, but I never could, and at fifty one is too old to begin to 
learn ; I should only make myself as annoying and irritating 
as a bed-bug. Apropos of bed-bugs, they nearly ate up the 
little Queen of Spain on her passage up the Mediterranean 
in the Spanish galleys. Her people were obliged to sit up 
with her all night. She arrived a few days ago at Toulon, 
and went from there by land to Barcelona because, so she 
wrote me, she could not endure the sea any longer. I 

4 



50 COREESPONDENCE OF 

would not be in her place ; to be a queen is painful in any 
country, but to be Queen of Spain is worst of all. 

I must acknowledge that the death of King James has 
made me very sad; his widow is in a situation to melt a 
heart of rock. The good king died with a firmness I cannot 
describe, and with as much tranquillity as if he were going 
to sleep. The evening before his death he said : " I forgive 
my daughter with all my heart for the harm she did 
me ; and I pray God to pardon her, and also the Prince of 
Orange and all my other enemies." The Queen of England 
cannot be consoled for the death of her husband, though she 
bears her sorrow with Christian resignation. I have nothing 
new to tell you ; I walk and read and write ; sometimes the 
king drives me to the hunt in. his calfeche. There are hunts 
every day; Sundays and Wednesdays are my son's days; 
the king hunts Mondays and Thursdays ; Wednesdays and 
Saturdays Monseigneur hunts the wolf; M. le Comte de 
Toulouse, Mondays and Wednesdays; the Due du Maine, 
Tuesdays; and M. le Due, Fridays. They say if all the 
hunting kennels were united there would be from 900 to 
1000 dogs. Twice a week there is a comedy. But you 
know, of course, that I go nowhere; which vexes me, for 
I must own that the theatre is the greatest amusement 
I have in the world, and the only pleasure that remains 
to me. 

You are wrong in supposing that I have ceased to read the 
Bible ; I read three chapters every morning. You ought not 
to imagine that French Catholics are as silly as German 
Cathohcs ; it is quite another thing, — one might almost 
say it is another rehgion. Any one reads Holy Scripture 
who chooses. Nobody here thinks the pope infallible, and 
when he excommunicated Lavardui in Eome everybody 
laughed and never dreamed of a pilgrimage. There is as 



MADAME. 51 

mucli difference in France from the Catliolic of Germany as 
there is from those of Italy and Spain. 

Those who wish to serve God in truth and according to 
His word should read Holy Scripture every day ; otherwise 
we sit in darkness. I am persuaded that good religion is 
founded on the word of God, and consists in having Jesus 
Christ in the heart ; all the rest is only the prating of priests. 
Of whatever rehgion we be, it is only by works that true 
faith is shown, and only by them can it be judged who does 
right. To love God and our neighbour is the law and the 
prophets, as our Lord Jesus Christ teaches us. 

I heard yesterday, through a letter from my aunt, the 
Electress of Brunswick, of the death of our poor Charles- 
Maurice. I am sincerely afflicted by it, and I pity you from 
the bottom of my heart. If Charles-Maurice had not loved 
wine so much he would have been a perfect philosopher. 
He has paid dear for his fault, for I am sure that drunken- 
ness shortened his life; he could not keep from drinking, 
and he burnt up his body. 

If the Court of France was what it used to be one might 
learn here how to behave in society ; but — excepting the 
king and Monsieur — no one any longer knows what polite- 
ness is. The young men think only of horrible debauchery. 
I do not advise any one to send their children here ; for in- 
stead of learning good things, they wiU only take lessons in 
misconduct. You are right in blaming Germans who send 
their sons to France ; how I wish that you and I were men 
and could go to the wars ! — but that 's a completely useless 
wish to have. The higher one's position in life the more 
polite we ought to be in order to set a good example to 
others. It is impossible to be more polite than the king ; 
but his children and grandchildren are not so at all. If I 
could with propriety return to Germany you would see me 



52 COKKESPONDENCE OP 

there quickly. I love that country ; I think it more agree- 
able than all others, because there is less of luxury that I do 
not care for, and more of the frankness and integrity which 
I seek. But, be it said between ourselves, I was placed here 
against my will, and here I must stay till I die. There is 
no likelihood that we shall see each other again in this life ; 
and what wiU become of us after that God only knows. 

Veksailles, 1704. 

There are very few women here who are not coquettes by 
nature ; it is excessively rare to meet any. Before God that 
is perhaps very reprehensible, but before men it is thought 
a fair game. The coquettes flatter themselves that, our Lord 
having shown in Holy Scripture so much charity for persons 
of their stripe, he wiU. certainly have compassion for them ; 
the cases of Mary Magdalen, of the Samaritan woman, and of 
the woman taken in adultery make them easy in mind. You 
must not think that they ever tire of coquetry ; they cannot 
do without it, so to speak, and they never get tired of it. 
Drunkenness is but too much the fashion among the young- 
women; but just now they are all in a state of complete 
satisfaction. Nothing is thought of but how to amuse the 
Duchesse de Bourgogne with collations, presents, fireworks, 
and other rejoicings. 

I have not been able to perform the good work of keeping 
fast this Lent. I cannot endure fish, and I am quite con- 
vinced that we can do better works than spoiling our stom- 
achs by eating too much of it. 

Are you simple enough to believe that Catholics have none 
of the true foundations of Christianity? Believe me, the 
aim of Christianity is the same in all Christians ; the differ- 
ences that we see are only priests' jargon, which does not 
concern honest men. What does concern us is to live well 



MADAME. 53 

as Christians, to be merciful, and to apply ourselves to 
charity and virtue. Preachers ought to recommend all that 
to Christians, and not squabble as they do over quantities of 
points, as if they understood them ; but this, of course, would 
diminish the authority of those gentlemen, and so they busy 
themselves with disputes, and not with what is more neces- 
sary and most essential. 

I have in no way approved of the ill-treatment of the 
Eeformers ; but as to that, one must blame politics, which 
is a subject to be treated of tUe-ti-tUe, and not touched upon 
by way of the post. I shall therefore follow your good 
example and write of something else. 

The jubilee bull has not converted all the abb^s, for there 
are still a goodly number of them in Paris who court the 
women. I never in my life could understand how any one 
could fall in love with an ecclesiastic. Neither you nor your 
sister are coquettes ; I can truly say I recognize my blood. 
What prevents one here from contracting sincere friendships 
is that one can never be sure of reciprocity ; there is so much 
egotism and duplicity. And so one must either live in a 
very sad and wearisome solitude, or resign one's self to many 
griefs. 

Veesailles, 1705. 
I was never scolded for sleeping in church, and so I have 
acquired a habit of it which I cannot get rid of. In the 
mornings I do not go to sleep ; but in the evenings, after 
dinner, it is impossible for me to keep awake. I never sleep 
at the theatre, but I do, very often, at the opera. I believe 
the devil cares very little whether I sleep or not in church; 
sleep is not a sin, but the result of human weakness. I see 
you are too devout to go to the theatre on Sunday ; but I 
think that visiting is more dangerous than the theatre ; for 
it is difficult in a visit not to say harm of your neighbour. 



54 COERESPONDENCE OF 

which is a much worse sin than seeing a comedy. I should 
never approve of going to the theatre instead of going to 
church; but after having fulfilled one's duties to God, I 
think the theatre is less dangerous for a scrupulous con- 
science than conversation. 

Many Frenchwomen, especially those who have been 
coquettish and debauched, as soon as they grow old and can 
no longer have lovers, make themselves devout — or, at least, 
they say they are. Usually such women are very dangerous ; 
they are envious and cannot endure others. But I must stop, 
my dear Louise ; I am sweating in a terrible way. The heat 
is extraordinary ; it is two months since a drop of rain has 
fallen, and the leaves are frying on the trees. 

I know very well what it is to be exposed in hunting to 
a burning sun ; many a time I have stayed with the hounds 
from early morning till five in the evening, and in summer 
till nine at night. I come in red as a lobster, with my face 
all burned ; that is why my skin is so rough and brown. 
ISTo one pays any attention here to the dust ; I have seen in 
travelling such clouds of it that we could not see each other 
in the coach, and yet the king never ordered the horsemen 
to keep back. The good night air does no one any harm ; 
at Marly I often walk out by moonlight. 

Versailles, 1706. 

Am^lie [another sister, Comtesse Palatine] writes me that 
she has answered the king of Prussia, and makes many 
jokes about it. I would reply to her in the same tone, but 
since the day before yesterday I have lost all desire to laugh 
and joke. We received news that, the orders of my son 
[with the army of Italy] not having been followed, the 
lines before Turin have been forced ; my son has two severe 
wounds : one in the thigh, but a flesh wound only ; the 



MADAME. 55 

other throTigli the right arm, without the bone being broken 
The surgeons assure us there is no danger to life ; God grant 
it ! For two days I have done nothing but weep ; they tell 
me he is not in danger, but his sufferings grieve me ; my 
eyes are so swollen and red I cannot see out of them. 

The siege of Turin and the catastrophe that has ended it, 
almost costing me the life of my son, makes me sigh more 
than ever for peace. I have been so harassed for the last 
three days that I think I should have lost my mind if the 
anxiety had lasted longer. I have constantly said that they 
ought to make those two kings of Spain [she means the 
claimants of the throne, Philippe V. and the Archduke 
Charles] wrestle together, and whichever had the strongest 
wrist should win ; such a singular combat to settle the fate 
of a kingdom would be more Christian than to shed the 
blood of so many men. 

We have here a species of pietists who are what they call 
quietists ; but they are much better than the pietists of 
Germany ; they are not so debauched. The King of Siam, 
when our king wanted to convert him to Christianity, re- 
plied that he thought people could be saved in all religions, 
'and that God, who had willed that the leaves of the trees 
should be of different colored greens, wished to be wor- 
shipped in diverse manners ; therefore the King of France 
ought to continue to serve God in the way to which he 
was accustomed ; while, for himself, he should adore God 
in his way, and if God wished him to change He would 
inspire him with the will to do so. I think that king was 
not far wrong. I believe that a long time will elapse before 
the last judgment ; we have not yet seen Antichrist. 

I thank you for the medals you have sent me ; but I 
should like to receive those that are made against France. 
I already have the most insulting, — those that were struck 



56 COERESPONDENCE OF 

in the reign of King William. The king and the ministers 
have them, therefore you need not hesitate to send them 
to me on the first occasion.^ 

I have received your letters from Heidelberg and Frank- 
fort, and I answered them ; but my letters to you, dear Louise, 
are all in the packet to my aunt v^rhich has been detained so 
long that v^e are nearly crazy about it. But that is what the 
all-powerful dame and the ministers succeed in — far better 
than they do in governing the kingdom. 

Versailles, 1709. 

Never in my life did I know so gloomy a period. The 
people are dying of cold like flies. The mills are stopped, 
and that has forced many to die of hunger. Yesterday 
they told me a sorrowful story about a woman who stole 
a loaf of bread from a baker's shop in Paris. The baker 
wanted to arrest her ; she said, weeping, " If you knew my 
misery you would not take the loaf away from me ; I have 
three little children all naked ; they ask me for bread ; I 
cannot bear it, and that is why I have stolen the loaf." 
The commissary before whom they took the woman told 
her to take him where she lived ; he went there, and found 
the three little children sitting in a corner under a heap of 
rags, trembling with cold as if they had the ague. " Where 
is your father ? " he asked the eldest. The child answered, 
" Behind the door." The commissary looked to see why the 
father was hiding behind the door, and recoiled with horror 
— the man had hung himself in despair. Such things are 
happening daily. 

I am very much deserted here, for every one, young and 
old, runs after favour. The Maintenon cannot endure me, 

1 Curious details as to these satirical medals will be found in a work 
by Klotz : Historia numorum Contumeliosorum, Attenbury, 1765. (French 
editor.) 



MADAME. 57 

and the Duchesse de Bourgogne likes only what that lady 
likes. I have done my best to concihate that all-powerful 
person, but I cannot succeed in doing so. So I am excluded 
from everything, and I never see the king except at supper. 
I can only act according to the will of others. I was less 
bound when Monsieur was living. I dare not sleep away 
from Versailles without the king's permission. It is not 
wrong, therefore, that I should wish to be with you in our 
dear Palatinate ; but God does not will that here below we 
should be fully satisfied. You and Am^He are free, but your 
health is bad ; I am lonely, but my health, thank God, is 
perfect. 

You are mistaken if you think that no lamentations are 
heard here; night and day we hear of nothing else; the 
famine is so great that children have eaten each other. The 
king is so determined to continue the war that yesterday he 
gave up his gold service and now uses porcelain ; he has 
sent every gold thing he has to the mint to be turned into 
coin. 

All that one sees and hears is dreadful ; we are living in 
a very fatal epoch. If one leaves the house one is followed 
by a crowd of poor creatures who cry famine ; all payments 
are made in notes ; there is no coin anywhere ; all one's con- 
tentment is destroyed till better days appear. 

The old lady who is here in such great favour hates me ; 
I have done my best to obtain her good wiQ, but I cannot 
succeed ; she has vowed to me and to my son an implacable 
hatred. One must do what is reasonable and walk a straight 
path : God will see to it all. 

But that all-powerful lady has always been against me. 
In the days of Monsieur his favourites feared that I should 
tell the king how they pillaged Monsieur, and how they 
troubled me with their profligate lives, and so they wished to 



58 COERESPONDENCE OF 

get that lady on their side ; and to do so, they told her they 
knew her life, and that if she was not for them, they would 
tell all to the king.^ (I knew from the lady herself that a 
union existed between them, but she did not tell me its 
cause, which I learned from a friend of the Chevalier de 
Lorraine.) She has persecuted me all her life, and she does 
not trust a hair of my head because she thinks me as vindic- 
tive as she is herself — which I am not — and so she tries to 
keep me away from the king. There is another reason 
besides: the affection that she has for the Duchesse de 
Bourgogne. As she knows very well that the king, whom I 
love and respect much, has no antipathy to me, and that my 
natural humour does not displease him, she is afraid that he 
might prefer a woman of my age to so young a princess as 
the Duchesse de Bourgogne ; and that is one reason why she 
wants to keep me away from the king — which she takes 
every possible means to do, so that there is no chance of 

changing matters. 

Maklt, 1709, 

I wish you could be with us here, just to see how beauti- 
ful the gardens are ; but one ought to be able to walk about 
them with kind and agreeable people, and not with persons 
who hate and despise one another mutually, — sentiments 
that are met with here more frequently than those of friend- 
ship. Last Wednesday I went to Paris ; every one was in 
alarm about the bread-famine. As I was going to the 
Palais-Eoyal, the people called out to me : " There is a riot ; 
forty persons are killed already." An hour later the Mar^- 
chal de Boufflers and the Due de Grammont had appeased it 
all ; we went tranquilly to the opera and returned to Ver- 
sailles on Saturday. 

1 Madame here refers to the Lorraines, whose scandalous relations to 
Monsieur are matters of history. — Tk. 



MADAME. 59 

Versailles, June, 1710. 

I have to inform you of the marriage of my granddaugh- 
ter [Marie-Louise-Elisabeth] to the Due de Berry. Monday, 
the king came to my room at Marly and announced to me 
that he should declare it publicly the next day. I had been 
told of it the night before, with an express injunction not to 
breathe it to a living soul. Tuesday I went to Saint-Cloud 
to congratulate the princess ; Wednesday she came to Marly ; 
her mother and I presented her to the king, who kissed her 
and presented her to her future husband. She will be fifteen 
in August, and she is already two inches taller than I. The 
dispensations from Eome have been sent for, and as soon as 
they arrive the marriage will take place. I own it causes 
me a most sincere joy. 

Versailles, July, 1710. 

This afternoon at five o'clock the contract will be signed 
in the king's cabinet, and the marriage will take place on the 
11th, in the morning, without any pomp ; but at night there 
is to be a grand reception and supper, with the king, of all the 
royal family. It is a very queer history how this marriage 
was brought about ; but it cannot be written hy jpost ; it is 
to hatred rather than attachment that we owe it ; but, at any 
rate, this marriage is better assorted than that of the Land- 
grave of Homburg, for the husband is nine years older than 
the wife, which is much better than when the wife is older 
than the husband. 

Marly, April, 1711. 

We have just met with a great misfortune. Monsieur le 
dauphin [Monseigneur] died on Friday, at eleven o'clock in 
the evening, just as they thought him out of danger. He 
first had a putrid fever, which changed into small-pox, to 
which he succumbed. The king spent the night with him. 



60 COERESPONDENCE OF 

but forbade us to go there. I went to see Monseigneur's 
children and found them in a state that would have melted 
the heart of stones.^ The king is extremely affected, but he 
shows a firmness and a submission to the will of God which 
I cannot express. He speaks to every one, and gives orders 
with resignation. What consoles him is that Monseigneur's 
confessor assures him that his conscience was in a very satis- 
factory state ; he had taken the communion at Easter and he 
died in very religious sentiments. The king expresses him- 
self in such a Christian way that it goes to my heart, and I 
cried aU day long yesterday. 

Versailles, May, 1711. 

I am unworthy to hear good sermons, for I cannot help 
sleeping ; the tones of the preachers' voices send me off at 
once. We are here in the greatest grief. I have told you 
already how poor Monsieur le dauphin died unexpectedly. 
His illness was dreadful. The Duchesse de Villeroy only 
spoke to her husband, who had been in the dauphin's room 
at Meudon, and she was infected and died of it. 

The king is a good Christian, but very ignorant in matters 
of rehgion. He has never in his life read the Bible ; he be- 
lieves all the priests and the canting bigots tell him ; it is 
therefore no wonder he goes astray. They tell him he must 
act in such and such a way ; he knows no better, and thinks 
he will be damned if he listens to other advice than that of 
his regular counsellors. 

The dauphin was not without intelligence ; he was quick 
to seize on all absurdities, his own as well as those of others. 
He could relate things very amusingly when he chose, but 

1 "We remember Saint-Simon's account of Madame who " arrived howl- 
ing, in full-dress." Madame will tell us herself that she never owned a 
dressing-gown ; and as she had nothing hut " full-dress " or a riding habit, 
her costume on this occasion seems the best she could choose. — Tb. 



MADAME. 61 

his laziness was sucli that it made him neglect everything. 
He would much have preferred an indolent life to the pos- 
session of all empires and kingdoms. In his life he never 
opposed the king's wishes, and he was as submissive as any- 
body to the Maiatenon. Those who assert that he would 
have retired from Court had the king announced his mar- 
riage to the guenipe did not know him ; he had himself a 
villanous guenijpe for mistress, whom it was thought he had 
married secretly ; her name was Mile. Choin ; she is still in 
Paris. What prevented the old Maintenon from being de- 
clared queen were the good reasons given against it to the 
king by the Archbishop of Cambrai, M. de F^nelon; and 
that is why she persecuted that good and respectable prelate 
till his death. 

Veesailles, June, 1712. 

I thank you for the share you take in my grief on account 
of the death of the great personages whom we have lost,^ and 
also on account of the frightful calumnies that are being 
spread about against my son, who is innocent. The fabrica- 
tors of those lies are confounded, and now ask pardon : but 
was it not horrible to invent such tales ? 

I cannot endure either tea, coffee, or chocolate; what 
would give me pleasure is good beer-soup ; but it cannot be 
procured here ; beer in France is worthless. 

I hoped that, the king having taken medicine yesterday, 
H. M. would not hunt to-day, and that I should thus have 
time to write you a reasonable letter ; but the demon of con- 
tretemps, as they say here, has come and put himself against 
it. We hunted this morning, and I did not get back to din- 
ner till mid-day ; I have answered my aunt and written her 

1 This appears to be the only letter contemporaneous with the deaths 
of the Due and Duchesse de Bourgogne (to which it alludes) that has 
been preserved. — Tr. 



62 CORRESPONDENCE OP 

fourteen sheets, so now I have but little time left before 
supper. 

Happily for me I no longer like cards, for I am not rich 
enough to risk my whole fortune as other people do, and I 
have no taste for little stakes. Though I do not play, time 
does not seem long to me when I am alone in my cabinet. 
I have quite a fine collection of gold coias and medals ; my 
aunt has given me others in silver and bronze ; I have two 
or three hundred engraved antique stones ; also many brass 
pieces which I like equally; I read with pleasure, and there- 
fore I am never bored, be the weather good or bad ; I have 
always something to do, and I write a great deal. "When, 
in one day, I have written twenty sheets to H. H. the Prin- 
cess of Wales, ten or twelve to my daughter, twenty in 
French to the Queen of Sicily [Anne-Marie, Monsieur's 
daughter by Henrietta of England] I am so tired that I can- 
not put one foot before the other. 

Marly, May, 1714. 

We have lost the poor Due de Berry, who was only 
twenty-seven years old, and was stout and so healthy he 
ought to have lived a hundred years. He shortened his 
life by his own imprudences — but I don't want to talk 
of such sad matters; it makes me sick at heart and does 
no good. 

It is a good thing for me that he had ceased for several 
years to love me, otherwise I could not be comforted for his 
loss. I own that at first, and even for some days afterwards, 
I was greatly moved ; but having reflected that if I had died 
he would only have laughed, I consoled myself promptly. 

July, 1714. 
I cannot express the grief into which I am plunged by the 
death of my aunt [Sophia, Electress of Hanover, mother of 



MADAME. 63 



George I. of England, who had brought Madame up, being 
the sister of her father] ; and I have, besides, the misery of 
being forced to suppress my sorrow, because the king cannot 
endure to see sad faces round him ; I am obliged therefore 
to hunt as usuaL 



11. 

Lettees of 1714-1716. 

FONTAINEBLEAU, 1714. 

We are here since yesterday ; having slept at the house of 
the Due d'Antin, called Petit-Bourg, a charming residence ; 
the gardens, especially, are magnificent. I did not come 
with the king, because two days before leaving Versailles I 
caught a bad cold in my head accompanied by a terrible 
cough, and I feared to disgust the king and make the young 
people laugh by spitting and blowing my nose ; so I came in 
my own carriage with my ladies and dogs. Yesterday they 
hunted, but I could not go ; it used to be great pain to me to 
lose a hunt, but now I do not care. 

You think my life is spent in pleasure-parties and amuse- 
ments ; to undeceive you I will tell you just how my exist- 
ence is regulated. Usually I get up at nine o'clock ; I go 
where you can guess ; next, I say my prayers and read three 
chapters in the Bible, one in the Old Testament, one in the 
New, and a psalm ; then I dress myself and receive the visits 
of many of the Court people ; at eleven I return to my cab- 
inet, where I read and write. At twelve I go to church ; 
after which I dine alone, which amuses me very little, for I 
think there is nothing so tiresome as to be alone at table, 
surrounded by servants who look at everything you put in 
your mouth; and besides, though I have been here forty- 
three years, I have not yet accustomed myself to the detest- 
able cooking of this country. After my dinner, which is 
usually over by a quarter to two, I return to my cabinet and 



COEKESPONDENCE OF MADAME. 65 

rest half an hour, and then I read and write till it is time for 
the king's supper ; sometimes my ladies play omhre or hrelan 
beside my table. Madame d'Orl^ans or the Duchesse de 
Berry, or sometimes my son, comes to see me between half- 
past nine and ten. At a quarter to eleven we take our places 
at table and wait for the king, who sometimes does not come 
till half -past eleven ; we sup without saying a word ; then 
we pass into the king's room, where we stay about the length 
of a Pater ; the king makes a bow and retires into his cabi- 
net; we follow him, — though / have only done so since 
the death of the last dauphine ; the king talks with us ; 
at half-past twelve he says good-night, and all retire to 
their own apartments ; I go to bed ; Mme. la Duchesse 
plays cards, the game lasting all night till the next day. 
When there is comedy I go to it at seven o'clock, and 
thence to the king's supper ; when there is hunting it is 
always at one o'clock ; then I get up at eight and go to 
church at eleven. 

I have seen Lord Peterborough twice ; he said the oddest 
things ; he has got a mind like the devil, but a very strange 
head, and he talks in a singular way. He said, in speaking 
of the two kings of Spain, " We are great fools to let our- 
selves be killed for two such boobies." 

I am really vexed that that old and odious Duchesse de 
Zell should still be living, whereas our dear electress is dead 
already. 

You probably have heard of the taking of Barcelona. I 
approve of the people being faithful to a master so long as 
he shows himself worthy of their affection ; but when he 
abandons them it would be better not to shed so much blood, 
and to submit peaceably. But those cursed monks are afraid 
they cannot live as they choose and be respected as much as 
they have been under a king of France, and so they preached 

5 



66 CORRESPONDENCE OF 

up and down tlie streets that Barcelona must not be sur- 
rendered. If my advice were followed they would put those 
rascals in the galleys, instead of the poor Keformers who are 

languishing there. 

October, 1714. 

This is, unhappily, the last letter that I shall write you 
from my dear Fontainebleau ; we leave Wednesday, and on 
Monday our last hunt will take place in the beautiful forest. 
I feel that the fine air and exercise do me much good ; they 
disperse and drive away sad thoughts, and nothing is so 
counter to my health as sadness. Last Thursday we hunted 
a stag that was rather malicious ; but one gentleman slipped 
round a rock behind him and wounded him in the shoulder, 
so that not being able to butt with his head he was no longer 
dangerous. Behind my caliche was another carriage in 
which were three priests, — the Archbishop of Lyons and 
two abbds ; fearing to be attacked by the stag two of them 
jumped out and flung themselves flat on their stomachs on 
the ground. I am sorry I did not see that scene, which 
would have made me laugh, for we old hunters are not so 
afraid of a stag. 

As for what concerns our king in England [George L] I 
find it hard to rejoice in his elevation, for I would not trust 
the English with a hair of my head. I have seen recently 
what the fine talk of my Lord Peterborough is worth. I 
wish that our elector, instead of becoming King of England, 
had been made Eoman Emperor, and that the King of Eng- 
land who is here were in possession of the kingdom to which 
he has a right. I fear that those English, who are so incon- 
stant, will do something before long which will not be to our 
liking. No one ever became king in a more brilhant man- 
ner than King James, being crowned amid cries of joy from 
the whole nation ; yet his people persecuted him so pitilessly 



MADAME. 67 

that he could scarcely find a spot in whicli to rest after 
countless sufferings. If one could only trust the English I 
should say that it was well for the parliament to be over 
Kiag George ; but when one reads about the revolutions of 
the Enghsh one sees what eternal hatred they feel to kings, 
and also their inconstancy. The English cannot endure 
each other ; we saw that at the Court of Saint-Germain ; 
they lived there like cats and dogs. I never heard of that 
philosopher Spinoza; was he a Spaniard? the name sounds 
Spanish. 

King George sent me word by M. Martini that as soon as 
he reached England he should write to me and keep up a 
correspondence. Yesterday M. Prior brought me a letter 
from the king, but it was written by a secretary and not by 
his own hand. I should not have expected that after the 
compliment by M. Martini ; but I ought not to feel aston- 
ished when I think what that king has always been to me — 
just the reverse of his mother. Whatever happens, I shall 
ever remember that he is the son of my aunt, and I shall 
wish him all sorts of prosperity, as I have to-day written to 
him. The Princess of Wales grieves me ; I esteem her sin- 
cerely, for I find the best sentiments in her — a rare thing 

at the present day. 

Versailles, 1715. 

Yesterday great news arrived about the Princesse des 
TJrsins, — she who has so long governed Spain, and who had 
gone to meet the new queen, whose camar era-may or she 
expected to be. Her pride has ruined her; she had writ- 
ten letters against the young queen, to whom they were 
shown. When she went to meet the queen she would only 
go half-way down the staircase ; then she criticised her 
dress, and blamed her for being so long upon the road, and 
said that if she had been in the king's place she might have 



68 COERESPONDENCE OF 

sent her back.^ Thereupon the queen ordered an officer of 
the body-guard to take that crazy woman out of her presence 
and arrest her, and at the same time she sent a courier to 
the king, making great complaints of the lady. The king 
answered that she could do what she liked in the matter. 
So at eleven o'clock at night the princess was put into a 
carriage with a single maid, lacqueys, and guards, and orders 
were given to take her to France, which was done. 

I cannot pity her, for she has always persecuted my son 
in a horrible manner ; she persuaded the king and queen 
(the one that is dead) that my son wanted to dethrone them 
and was conspiring against their lives; which is so false 
that, do what she could, she was unable to justify her 
accusations, no matter how slightly, in the eyes of the 
world. For this reason I do not afflict myself at what has 
happened to her, and that is natural. I am uneasy lest that 
mahgnant devil should come here, for she would not fail to 
fling her poison on my son and on me, from which may God 
preserve us ! I will tell you later whatever happens in 
regard to that old woman. 

We have just received the sad news of the death of the 
Archbishop of Cambrai [F^nelon]. He is much regretted. 
He was a great friend to my son. Also the good Mar^chal 
de Chamilly, who was a very brave and worthy man, died 
two days ago [The Marquis de Chamilly ; to him were 
addressed the famous " Portuguese Letters "]. 

There is nothing new here. Everybody is talking of the 
Persian ambassador who made his entry yesterday, February 
6, into Paris. He is the oddest-looking being that was ever 
seen. He has brought a soothsayer with him, whom he 
consults on all occasions to know if days and hours are 

1 As to this tale see the " Memoirs of the Due de Saint-Simon, which 
gives Mme des Ursins own account of the affair." — Te. 



MADAME. 69 

lucky or unlucky. If it is proposed to him to do anything 
and the day does not prove to be a lucky one, he flies into 
a fury, grinds his teeth, draws his sabre and his dagger, 
and wants to exterminate everybody. But I am called to 
go to church and I cannot tell you more just now. 



April, 1815 

To-day I am, as they say in our dear Palatinate, as cross 
as a bed-bug ; and I will give you one specimen. The king, 
wishing to reward the Priucesse des Ursins, who has be- 
haved so horribly to my son, trying to make him out a 
poisoner, has given her a pension of 40,000 francs. There 
are two other things that have put me out of temper, which 
are not worth more than that. Such injustices disgust one 
with life ; but we must hold our tongue and never say what 
we think. 

After dinner my grandson, the Due de Chartres, came to 
see me, and I gave him an entertainment suited to his 
years : it was a triumphal car drawn by a big cat, in which 
was a little bitch named Andrienne ; a pigeon served as 
coachman, two others were the pages, and a dog was the 
footman and sat behind. His name is Picard; and when 
the lady got out of the carriage Picard let down the steps. 
The cat is named Castille. Picard also allows himself to 
be saddled ; we put a doll on his back and he does all that 
a circus horse would do. I have also a bitch, whom I call 
Badine, who knows the cards and will bring whichever I tell 
her — but enough of such nonsense. 

England certainly owes much to the Duchess of Ports- 
mouth. She is the best woman of that class that I ever 
saw in my life ; she is extremely polite and is very agree- 
able company. In the days of Monsieur we often had her 
at Saint-Cloud ; so I know her very well. 




70 COREESPOKDENCE OF 

You cannot be surprised, my dear Louise, if I often have 
reason to be sad; for you must have read the long letter 
I sent to my aunt, our dear electress, by the hands of 
M. de Werseb^. The rancour that the vilaine has against 
me will end only with her life ; all that she can imagine 
to do me harm and grieve me she never omits. She is more 
angry with me now than ever because I would not see her 
great friend whom the Queen of Spain dismissed. My 
son had begged me not to see her, because she has a furious 
enmity against him and tried to make him out a poisoner. 
He has not been contented with proving his innocence ; he 
has insisted that aU the documents of the inquiry should be 
taken to Parliament and preserved there. It is therefore 
very natural that I should refuse to see such a woman ; but 
the vilaine is angry — for like meets hke, as the devil said 
to the coalheaver. So I must take patience, and not look 
as if I resented the wrongs done to us. 

This morning, as I was washing my hands, my son came 
into my room and made me a very fine present. He gave 
me seventeen antique gold coins, as fresh as if they had 
just come out of the mint. They were found near Modena, 
as you may have read in the Holland Gazette ; he had them 
secretly carried to Eome. This attention on his part has 
given me the greatest pleasure, — not so much for the value 
of the present as for the attention. 

As soon as I return to Versailles I will have a copy made 

of my portrait by Eigaud, who has seized my likeness in a 

wonderful manner ; you will then see, my dear Louise, how 

old I have grown. 

Versailles, August 15th, 1715. 

Our king is not well, and that worries me to the point of 
being half ill myself; I have lost both sleep and appetite. 
God grant I be mistaken, for if what I fear should 



MADAME. 71 

happen it would be the greatest misfortune I could meet 
with. Were I to explain to you all that, you would see ; it 
is so abominable that I cannot think of it without becoming 
goose-flesh. Say nothing to any one in England of what 
I have now said to you, but I am very anxious about it. 

Mme. de Maintenon has not been ill ; she is fresh and in 
good health ; would to God that our kiag were as well, and 
then I should be less troubled than I am. 

August 27th. 

My dear Louise, — I am so troubled that I do not know 
any longer what I do or what I say ; and yet I must answer 
your kind letter as best I can. I must first tell you we had 
yesterday the saddest and most touchiag scene that can be 
imagined. The king, after preparing himself for death, after 
having received the sacraments, had the dauphin brought to 
him, gave him his benediction, and talked to him. He sent 
for me next, also for the Duchesse de Berry and all his 
daughters and grandchildren. He bade me farewell in words 
so tender that I wonder I did not fall down senseless. He 
assured me that he had always loved me and more than I 
knew, and that he regretted to have sometimes caused me 
grief. He asked me to remember him sometimes, adding 
that he thought I should do so wilhngly, for he was certain 
I had always loved him. He said also that he gave me his 
blessing and offered prayers for the happiness of my whole 
life. I threw myself on my knees and, taking his hand, 
I kissed it. He embraced me and then he spoke to the 
others. He told them that he urged harmony among them. 
I thought he said that to me, and I answered that for that 
object as for all else I would obey him as long as I lived. 
He smiled and said: "It is not for you that I said that; I 
know you do not need such urging ; I said it for the other 
princesses." 



72 COREESPONDENCE OF 

You can believe in what a state all this has put me. The 
king has shown a firmness beyond all expression ; he gave 
his orders as if about to start on a journey. He said fare- 
well to all his servants, and recommended them to my son, 
and made him regent, with a tenderness that penetrated the 
soul through and through. I thiak I shall be the next per- 
son ia the royal family to follow the king if he dies ; ia the 
first place, on account of my advanced age, and next because 
as soon as the king is dead they are going to take the young 
kiQg to Vincennes and we shall all go to Paris, where the air 
is so very bad for me. I shall have to stay there in mourn- 
ing, deprived of fresh air and exercise, and, according to all 
appearance, I shall fall ilL It is not true that Mme. de 
Maintenon is dead. She is in perfect health in the king's 
chamber, which she never leaves either day or night. 

If the king dies, and there is no means of doubting it, it 
will be to me a misfortune of which you can form no just 
idea ; and that because of certain reasons which must not be 
written down. I see nothing before me but misery and 
wretchedness. Eesidence in Paris is intolerable to me. 

September 6th. 

It is long since I have written to you, but it was impossi- 
ble I should do so. The king died Sunday last, at nine 
o'clock in the morning. You can believe that I have had 
many visits to make and receive, and that I have received 
and written many letters. I am extremely troubled both by 
the loss of the king and by the fact that I must go and live 
in that cursed Paris. If I spend a year there I shall be 
horribly ill ; for that reason I want to quit it as soon as I can 
and go to Saint-Cloud. All this worries me much, but com- 
plaining does no good. I am very frank and very natural, 
and I say out all that I have in my heart. I must tell you 



MADAME. 73 

that it is a great consolation to me to see the whole people, 
the troops and parliament rallying to my son and publicly 
proclaiming him regent. His enemies, who plotted round the 
death-bed of the king, are now disconcerted, and their cabal 
has lost ground. But my son takes these matters so much 
to heart that he has no rest either day or night ; I fear he 
may fall ill, and many sad ideas come into my head, but I 
must not tell them. 

My son has pronounced a speech in Parhament and they 
tell me he did not speak badly. The young king is very 
delicate; the ministers who governed under the late king 
keep their places, and as there is no doubt that they are 
quite as curious as they ever were, letters will continue to 
be opened. It is quite impossible that I should keep my 
health in Paris, for what preserved it was fresh air and 
exercise, hunting, and walking. But I ought to learn to 
resign myself to the will of God ; the frightful wickedness 
and falseness of this world disgust me with life ; I cannot 
hope to make the people love me — I am called to sit 
down to table, so I cannot read over my letter ; excuse its 
faults. 

Paeis, September 10th, 1715. 

Here we are in this sad town. Last night I spent in 
weeping, and have given myself a bad headache. My son 
has given me a new apartment which is, beyond comparison, 
much superior to the old one ; but I am always uncomfort- 
able here. This morning I began to write, but could only 
accomplish a few lines, I have such a fearful crowd of people 
about me, and my head aches so that I know not what I 
write or what I do. Yest^day they took the late king to 
Saint-Denis. The royal household is dispersed ; the young 
king was taken yesterday to Vincennes; Mme. de Berry 
went to Saint-Cloud ; my son's wife and I came here ; and 



74 COKRESPONDENCE OP 

my son came too, after accompanying the king to Vincennes ; 
I don't know where the others have gone. 

I am not surprised, my dear Louise, that the king's death 
touched your heart ; but what I wrote you was nothing to 
what we saw and heard. The king, of himself, was kind 
and just. But the old woman ruled him so completely that 
he did nothing except by her will and that of the ministers ; 
he had no confidence in any but her and his confessor ; and 
as the good king was very little educated, the Jesuits and 
the old woman on one side, and the ministers on the other, 
made him, between them, do exactly as they pleased, — 
the ministers being, for the most part, creatures of the 
old vilaine. So I can say with truth that all the evil 
that was done was not the king's own act ; he was misled 
and imposed upon. 

Yesterday they took the young king to parliament for 
his first lit de justice. The regency of my son was enregis- 
tered ; so now it is a sure and certain thing. 

I know that my son wants me to find pleasure in living 
here ; but it is not in his power to make it so. I wish I 
could have a fever ; for I have promised not to leave Paris 
unless I am ill, and headaches, which I am sure to have as 
long as I am here, will not count ; but as soon as I have a 
fever I can return to my dear Saint-Cloud. My son has 
many other things to do than to think of my pleasures and 
conveniences. He greatly needs that we should pray to 
God for him ; he seems to me resolved to follow the king's 
last orders and live in amity with his relations. I think 
that anything he directs himself will go weU ; but many 
things must, necessarily, escape his direction. To show that 
he does not wish to govern without other law than his own 
caprice, he has already created various councils, — one for 
civil affairs, one for ecclesiastical matters; there is also a 



MADAME. 75 

council for foreign affairs, and for war. He can do nothing 
but what has already been decided upon in those councils ; 
it is difficult to believe that the council on ecclesiastical 
matters, which is composed of priests, will be favourable to 
the Eeformers. I am quite determined not to meddle in 
anything. Trance has too long, to its sorrow, been governed 
by women ; I will not, so far as concerns me, give a handle 
to any one to lay that blame on my son ; and I hope that 
my example may open his eyes, and that he will not allow 
himself to be ruled by any woman. 

Saint-Cloud is to me a spot of enchantment; and with 
good reason, for there is not in the world a more delight- 
ful residence. But if I had gone there, as I wished, all 
Paris would have detested me, and out of consideration for 
my son, I was bound to abstain from going. Do not think, 
dear Louise, that the king's death has rendered me, as I 
desired, freer in my actions ; we are forced to live according 
to the customs of the country, and are in no wise masters of 
our own conduct. In my situation, one is truly the victim 
of greatness, and one must be resigned to do that for which 
we have no inclination. Do not be grateful to me for writ- 
ing to you in the midst of my troubles ; nothing soothes the 
heart so much as to teU our griefs to those we love, who 
give to our afflictions a real sympathy. 

It is true that everybody thought the king dead when 
Mme. de Maintenon left him; but he had only lost con- 
sciousness for a time, and afterwards recovered it. I do 
not want to say anything more about these sad matters, 
which affect me cruelly. The king showed the greatest firm- 
ness up to his last moment. He said to Mme. de Maintenon, 
smihng : " I have always heard it said that it was difficult 
to die ; I assure you that I find it very easy." He remained 
twenty-four hours without speaking to any one ; but during 



76 COEEESPONDENCE OF 

that time he prayed and repeated constantly : " My God, 
have pity upon me ; Lord, I am waiting to appear before 
you ; why do you not take me, my God ? " He then repeated 
with much fervour the Lord's prayer and the Creed, and he 
died recommending his soul to God. 

September 17th, 1715. 

Parhament has recognized my son's rights to the regency, 
rights which his birth bestowed upon him indisputably. 
The king had told him he had made a will in which he 
would find nothing to complain of; and yet that will is 
found to be whoUy in favour of the Due du Maine ; it is not 
therefore difficult to divine who dictated it — but do not let 
us talk of it. 

My son has too often heard me speak of you not to know 
you and appreciate you, and he bids me offer you his affection- 
ate compliments. The duties with which he is charged are 
far from easy ; he finds everything left in a very miserable 
state; time is necessary to repair the situation; nothing 
presents itself that is not care and trouble, and for my son, 
as for me, the future does not appear under flattering colours. 
More than forty placards attacking him have been posted 
in Paris, and the dukes and peers are caballing against him 
in Parhament ; but my son is so beloved by the people and 
the troops that his enemies are having their trouble for their 
pains, and all they get is the shame of it. I admit, however, 
that I am very uneasy in seeing him the target of so much 
animosity. 

Ah ! my dear Louise, you do not know this country. They 
laud my son to the skies, but only for the purpose, each 
man for himself, of getting some profit from it ; fifty persons 
want the same office, and as it can only be given to one, 
forty-nine malcontents are made, who become rabid enemies. 



MADAME. 77 

My son works so hard from six in the morning till midnight 

that I fear his health will suffer. 

October, 1715. 

I have been to Saint-Cloud while the Duchesse de Berry 
came here. Between ourselves, I wish to have nothing to 
do with her ; we do not sympathize. I live poHtely with 
her, as I would with a stranger, but I do not see her often, 
and I will not concern myself with anything that she does, 
or that her mother and her sisters do ; I busy myself about 
my own affairs. The Court is not what it is in Germany, 
and no longer what it was in the days of Monsieur, when 
we dined together, and all of us met every evening in the 
state salons. In these days we live apart; my son takes 
his meals alone ; I the same ; his wife the same ; she is so 
lazy she is never able to resolve at a given moment to do 
the slightest thing ; she lies on a sofa all day, and Mme. de 
Berry follows that example at the Luxembourg ; so you see, 
my dear Louise, that there cannot be any Court. Ah ! you 
do not know the French ; as long as they hope to obtain 
what they want they are charming ; but out of fifty aspir- 
ants, forty-nine enemies are made, who cabal and play the 
devil. I know the Court and State too well to rejoice for a 
moment that my son is regent. 

I have kept the word I gave you, and have earnestly en- 
treated for the poor Eeformers who are at the galleys ; I 
have obtained a promise — but just now No is said to none. 
I do not know what my son may have said to Lord Stair 
about the Eeformers, but I can assure you that when I spoke 
to him he gave me good hope, saying at the same time that 
there were very strong reasons which prevented him from 
doing the thing promptly. 

In the days of Cardinal Mazarin they wrote horrible books 
against him. He appeared much irritated, and sent for all 



78 COEEESPONDENCE OF 

the copies as if lie intended to bum tliem up. When he had 
got them all he sold them secretly and made ten thousand 
crowns out of them. Then he laughed and said: "The 
French are pretty fellows ; as long as I let them sing and 
write, they will let me do just as I choose." 

Mme. de Maintenon is at Saint-Cyr, in the institution 
which she founded herself. She was never the king's mis- 
tress, but somethiug much higher. She was governess to 
Mme. de Montespan's children, and from that she got a foot- 
ing in salons, but she went much farther. The devil in hell 
cannot be worse than she has been ; her ambition has flung 
all France into wretchedness. La Fontanges was a good 
girl ; I knew her well ; she was one of my maids-of-honour, 
handsome from head to foot, but she had no judgment. 

I think that many people will declare themselves against 
King George, for the Chevalier de Saint-George has gone to 
Scotland. They told me to-night the details of his departure. 
He was at Commercy with the Prince de Vaudemont and 
was hunting a stag. After the hunt they sat at supper till 
midnight. On retiring to his chamber he said he was tired, 
and told his servants to let him sleep till he called them. 
Two hours after noon, as he gave no sign of life, his servants 
were frightened ; entering his apartment and not finding him 
in his bed, they ran in terror with the news to the Prince de 
Vaudemont. The latter behaved as if he knew nothing, and 
said that a search must be made immediately. At the end 
of an hour the prince ordered all the portcullises raised, so 
that no one was able to leave the chateau for three days. 
During this time the chevalier reached Bretagne, and jumped 
into a fishing-boat which took him out to a Scotch vessel in 
which there were several lords, with whom he went to Scot- 
land. If to-morrow I hear anything new about this, and do 
not die in the course of the night, I will tell you more. 



MADAME. 79 

No one knows what will be the result of the affair, but I 
am pained for both rivals. King George is the son of my 
dear aunt, the electress, which makes him as dear to me as 
if he were my own child. On the other hand the Pretender 
is also my relation ; he is the best man in the world ; on all 
occasions he and the queen, his mother, have shown me the 
greatest friendship. I cannot wish harm to either the one or 
the other. 

I ought to tell you that it would be sovereignly unjust on 
the part of Lord Stair to accuse my son of conniving in the 
flight of the Chevalier. How could he know what happened 
at Commercy, or guess that the Pretender was going incog- 
nito to Bretagne ? My son did not know it for a week ; 
when he heard it the affair was over. The Chevalier de 
Saint-George is the best and most polite man in the world. 
He asked Lord Douglas : " What can I do to win the sym- 
pathy of my people ? " Douglas answered : " Embark, take 
a dozen Jesuits with you, and as soon as you arrive, hang 
them publicly ; nothing will please the people like that." 

M. Leibnitz, to whom I sometimes write, assures me that 
I do not write German badly ; this has given me great pleas- 
ure, for I should not like to forget my mother tongue. 

The third daughter of Mme. d'Orl^ans, Louise- Adelaide, is 
well brought up and is not ugly. She firmly persists in being 
a nun; but I think she has no vocation for it. I do my 
best to turn her from the notion ; but she has always had 
this folly in her head. She has very pretty hands and a 
skin that is naturally white and pink. 

Mme. d'OrMans has had six daughters. The first died 
when she was two years old ; the second is the Duchesse de 
Berry ; the third is seventeen, they call her Mile, de Chartres, 
and it is she who wants to be a nun ; she is the prettiest of 
them all both in face and figure ; the fourth is Charlotte- 



80 CORRESPONDENCE OF 

Agla^, Mile, de Yalois ; she will be fifteen in October. Then 
comes the Due de Chartres, who is twelve in August. The 
fifth girl, Louise-Elisabeth, MUe. de Montpensier, who is in a 
convent at Beauvais, was six on the eleventh of this month ; ^ 
and finally MUe. de Beaujolais, who is only a year old ; Mme, 
d'Orl^ans is again pregnant. No one ever thought of marry- 
ing Mile, de Chartres to the Chevalier de Saint-George; it 
is true that it was rumoured about, but the persons whom it 
concerned never thought of it. 

Mme. d' Orleans is not of my opinion as regards her daugh- 
ters; she would like to have them all nuns. She is not 
stupid enough to fancy that that would take them to heaven ; 
but she desires it from pure laziness ; for she is the laziest 
woman in the world, and she is afraid, if she has them near 
her, of the trouble of bringing them up. So she does not 
trouble herself about them; she lets them quarrel and do 
what they like. All that is without my approbation; and 
they must get out of it as they can. I am convinced that 
Mme. d'Orl^ans' ailments and weaknesses come from the 
fact that she is always in bed or on a sofa ; she eats and 
drinks lying down. It is pure indolence in her. That is 
why we cannot take our meals together. She has not spoken 
to me since the death of the king. 

Mme. de Berry is red. When she wishes to please she 
ought to talk, for she has natural eloquence. She keeps 
around her those who constantly deceive her. I say nothing 
to her now ; she has intelligence, but has been very ill 
brought up. I no longer consider her as one of my grand- 
children ; she goes her way, and I go mine ; I do not concern 
myself with her, nor she with me. 

1 She was married in 1722 to Luis, Prince of the Asturias. See the 
"Memoirs of the Due de Saint-Simon." — Tb. 



MADAME. 81 

Paris, 1716. 

There never were two brothers so different as the late 
king and Monsieur ; and yet they loved each other much. 
The king was tall with fair hair, or rather a light-brown ; 
he had a manly air and an extremely fine face. Monsieur 
was not disagreeable in appearance, but he was very small, 
his hair was black as jet, the eyebrows thick and brown, 
with large dark eyes, a very long and rather narrow face, 
a big nose, a very small mouth, and shocking teeth ; he had 
the manners of a woman rather than those of a man ; he 
did not like either horses or hunting ; he cared for nothing 
but cards, holding a court, good eating, dancing, and dress- 
ing himself ; in a word, he took pleasure in all that women 
like. The king loved hunting, music, the theatre ; Monsieur 
liked nothing but great assembhes and masked balls; the 
king liked gallantry with women ; but I do not believe that 
in all his life Monsieur was ever in love. He was so fond of 
the sound of beUs that he always went to Paris to spend All 
Saints night expressly to hear them ring as they do there the 
livelong night. He laughed about it himself, but declared 
that ringing gave him the greatest pleasure. I never let him 
go anywhere alone, except by his express orders. Monsieur 
was very devout ; but he was brave. The soldiers in the 
army used to say of him : " He is more afraid of sun and 
dust than he is of guns," and that was very true. The 
ChevaKer de Lorraine was a wicked man, but the rest of 
his dear friends were no better. Some years before the 
late Monsieur's death he begged my forgiveness. 

My son has studied much, he has a good memory, he 
seizes everything with facility. He does not resemble either 
his father or his mother. Monsieur had a long, narrow face, 
whereas my son has a square one. His walk is like that of 
Monsieur, and he makes the same motions with his hands. 

6 



82 COKRESPONDENCE OF 

Monsieur had a very small mouth and villanous teeth ; my 
son has a large mouth and beautiful teeth. He is too 
prejudiced in favour of his own nation. Though he sees 
every day how false and deceitful his compatriots are, he 
firmly believes there are no people on earth to be compared 
with the French. 

I assure you that everything passed in all honour between 
my son and the Queen of Spain. I do not know whether 
he had the good fortune to please the queen, but he never 
was in love with her. He says she has a good expression, 
and a fine figure, but that neither her features nor her 
manners are to his taste. I certainly cannot deny that he 
is a lover of women ; but he has his caprices, and everybody 
does not please him. The grand style suits him less than 
the dissipated, loose ways of the opera-dancers. I often 
ridicule him for it. 

Our little king is now in the Tuileries in perfect health ; 
he has never been really iU ; he is very lively, and does not 
keep in one position for a single instant. To tell you the 
truth, he is very badly brought up ; they let him do just 
what he likes for fear of making him ill. I am convinced 
that if they corrected him he would be less quick-tempered ; 
and they do him great harm by letting him follow his 
caprices. But everybody wants to gain the good graces of 
a king, no matter how young he is. 

Mme. la Duchesse learned from her mother and her aunt 
[Mmes. de Montespan and de Thiange] to turn people into 
ridicule; they never did anything else; everybody was a 
butt for their satire under pretext of amusing the king. 
The children, who were always there, never knew or heard 
aught else. It was a bad school, but not so dangerous as 
that of the children's governess ; for the latter went seriously 
to work, without any intention of amusing, and told the 



MADAME. 83 

king all sorts of evil of everybody, under pretence of religion 
and charity and reforming the neighbour. In this way the 
king was given a bad opinion of the whole Court, and the 
old woman was able to prevent the king from liking to be 
with any others than herself and her creatures — they were 
the only perfect beings, exempt from all faults. This was 
really the more perilous because leitres de cachet sending 
persons to prison or exile, followed on such denunciations, — 
things which Mme. de Montespan never procured. When 
she had well laughed at any one she was satisfied and went 
no further. 

Mme. la Duchesse has three charming daughters ; one of 
them. Mile, de Clermont, is very beautiful, but I think her 
sister, the young Princesse de Conti, is much more agreeable. 
The mother is not more beautiful than her daughters, but 
she has more grace, a better countenance, and more engaging 
ways ; wit sparkles in her eyes, also malice. I always say 
she is like a pretty cat which lets you feel her claws even 
while she plays. She laughs at everybody ; but is very 
amusing, and turns things into ridicule in such a pleasant 
way that you can't help laughing. She is very good com- 
pany, — always gay, and makes the liveliest sallies ; she is 
very insinuating, and when she wants to please a person 
she can take all shapes ; in her life she never was out of 
temper, and if she is false (as she really is) there never was 
any one more agreeable ; she knows how to adapt herself 
to every one's humour, and you would think she had a 
genuine sympathy for those to whom she shows it, but you 
must not trust her. 

Paris, 1716. 
Cardinal de ISToailles is certainly a virtuous cardinal of 
great merit, which all cardinals are not. We have four 
here, each different. Three have this in common, that they 



84 COREESPONDENCE OF 

are all as false as gibbet-wood, but in face and temper they 
are quite different. Cardinal de Polignac is well-bred ; 
lie lias capacity ; be is insinuating, bis voice is soft ; be is 
too mucb given to politics and sycophancy, which makes 
him commit the faults for which people blame him. Car- 
dinal de Eohan has a fine face, like his mother [Mme. de 
Soubise, one of Louis XIV.'s mistresses], but he has no 
figure ; he is vain as a peacock, full of whims, intriguiag, 
a slave to the Jesuits ; he thinks he governs everything, but 
really governs nothing ; he believes that he is without an 
equal in this world. Cardinal de Bissy is ugly; he has 
the face of a clumsy peasant ; he is proud, mahgnant, and 
false ; more dissimulating than any one imagines ; a sicken- 
ing flatterer, you see his falseness in his eyes ; he has 
capacity, but uses it only to do harm. These three cardi- 
nals could put the Noailles in a sack and sell him without 
his knowing it, as the proverb says ; they are all three far 
more shrewd than he. Bissy and Tartuffe are as like as 
two drops of water; Bissy has just Tartuffe's manners. 

Wolves are going about in bands of eight and ten and 
attacking travellers ; the extreme severity of the cold is the 
reason of this ; it is causing great misfortunes. In Paris 
eight poor washerwomen were at work on a boat ; the ice 
cut the rope like a razor ; the boat was crushed into bits ; 
one of the women had the presence of mind to jump from 
one cake of ice to another, and they had time to throw her 
a rope and save her ; but all the others perished. The head 
of one was cut off by the ice, and the body of another was 
cut through; that was an awful thing, and what made it 
more terrible was that the woman was pregnant, and when 
the ice cut her open the head of a child appeared. What can 
be imagined more dreadful than that ! 



MADAME. 85 

Paris, 1716. , 
I had completely won my husband during the last three 
years of his life ; I had brought him round to laugh with me 
at his weaknesses, and to take what I said pleasantly with- 
out being irritated. He no longer allowed any one to calum- 
niate and attack me in his presence ; he had a just confidence 
in me ; he always took my part. But previously to that I 
had suffered horribly. I was just about to become happy 
when our Lord God took away my poor husband, and I saw 
disappear in one instant the result of all the cares and paias 
I had taken for thirty years to make myself happy. I am 
subject to attacks of the spleen, and when anything agitates 
me my left side swells up as big as a child's head. I do 
not like to stay in bed ; as soon as I wake I want to be up. 

Three or four years before Monsieur's death I had, to 
please him, been reconciled with the Chevaher de Lorraine ; 
after which he did me no more harm. The chevaher died so 
poor that his friends had to pay for his burial. He had, 
however, an income of three hundred thousand crowns ; but 
he was a bad manager, and his people robbed him. As long 
as they gave him a thousand pistoles for his gambling and 
debauchery he let them dissipate and pillage his property as 
they chose. La Grangay contrived to get a great deal of 
money out of him. He came to a dreadful end. He was 
sitting with Mme. de Mar^, sister of Mme. de'Grangay, and 
was telling her how he had passed the night in debauchery, 
relating the utmost horrors, when he was struck with 
apoplexy, lost his speech at once, and never recovered con- 
sciousness. 

If I could have given my blood to prevent the mar- 
riage of my son I would have done it ; but after the thing 
was done I consulted only concord. Monsieur felt much 
attachment to his daughter-in-law during the first months, 



8Q CORKESPONDENCE OF 

but after lie imagined that she looked with too favourable an 
eye on the Chevalier de Eoye [Marquis de la Eochefoucauld] 
he hated her like the devil. To prevent him from bursting 
out I was obliged to represent to him daily with all my 
strength that he would dishonour himself, and his son too, 
by making a scene, which would lead to nothing but un- 
happiness with the king. As no one had wished for that 
marriage less than I, my advice was not suspicious ; it was 
plain I spoke, not from attachment to my daughter-in-law, 
but for the purpose of avoiding scandal and from love of my 
son and his family. So long as an outburst could be pre- 
vented the thing was at least doubtful to the eyes of the 
public ; an opposite behaviour would have given proof that 
it was true. 

I am now satisfied with Mme. d'Orl^ans ; she shows me 
great respect, and I, too, do my best to please her in every- 
thing, and I live with her now as politely as possible. She 
never could resolve to dine with the king, her father, there- 
fore she cannot take that pains for me. She is always lying 
down when she eats, with a little table and her favourite, 
the Duchesse Sforza, beside her. At mid-day my son is 

always with her. 

Paris, 1716. 

There is nothing surprising in the fact that the dauphin 
[the Due de Bourgogne] was in love with the dauphine. She 
had much intelligence and was very agreeable when she 
chose to be. Her husband was devout and rather melancholy 
in temperament, while she was always gay ; that served to 
animate him and disperse his gloom ; and as he had a strong 
liking for women (humpbacked persons always have), but 
was so pious that he thought he committed a sin by looking 
at any other woman than his wife, it is very simple that 
he was much in love with her. I have seen him squint to 



MADAME. 87 

make himself ugly when a lady told him he had fine eyes ; 
though it was not necessary, for the good soul was ugly 
enough without endeavouring to make himself more so. He 
had a shocking mouth, a sickly skin, was very short, hump- 
backed, and deformed. His wife lived very well with him, 
but she did not love him ; she saw him as others did ; and 
yet I think she was touched by the passion he had for her ; 
it is certain that no greater attachment could be than that 
of the dauphin for his wife. He had many good qualities ; 
he was very charitable and helped great numbers of officers, 
though no one knew it. At his birth the public rejoicings 
were universal. The dauphine could make him believe 
whatever she liked ; he was so in love with her that when- 
ever she looked favourably at him he went into ecstasy and 
was quite beside himself. When the king scolded him he 
seemed so distressed that the kiag was obliged to soften 
down. The old aunt [Mme. de Maintenon] would also 
seem so troubled that the king had enough to do to tran- 
quillize her. In short, to get peace the king at last left the 
old mistress to direct all such domestic matters, and no 
longer concerned himself about them. 

Nangis, who commanded the king's regiment, was not dis- 
pleasing to the dauphine, but he had more hking for the 
little La Yrillifere. The dauphin was fond of Nangis, and 
thought it was to please him that his wife talked to Nangis ; 
he was convinced that his favourite had gallant relations 
with Mme. de La Vrillifere. 

My son is no longer a young man of twenty ; he is forty- 
two, and therefore they cannot pardon him in Paris for run- 
ning after women like a hare-brained youth when he has 
all the weighty affairs of the kingdom on his hands. When 
the late king took possession of his crown the kingdom was 
in a state of prosperity, and he could then very well divert 



88 COERESPONDENCE OF 

himself ; but to-day it is not the same thing ; my son must 

work night and day to repair what the king, or rather, his 

faithless ministers, ruined. 

I cannot deny that my son has a great inclination for 

women ; he has now a sultana-queen, named Mme. de 

Parabfere. Her mother, Mme. de la Vieuville, was lady of 

the bed-chamber to the Duchesse de Berry, and that is 

where he made her acquaintance. She is now a widow, 

with a fine figure, tall and well-made ; her skin is dark and 

she does not paint ; she has a pretty mouth, and pretty eyes, 

but very little mind ; she is a fine bit of flesh. My son has 

become alarmingly delicate ; he cannot kneel down without 

dropping over from weakness. When he drinks too much 

he does not use strong liquors, only champagne; he does 

not care for any other wine. 

Paris, 1716. 

Cardinal de Pdchelieu, in spite of all his talent, used to 
have fits of madness ; he fancied sometimes he was a horse, 
and would gallop round a billiard-table, neighing, and making 
a great noise for a hour, and trying to kick his attendants. 
After that they would put him to bed and cover him 
up to induce perspiration, and when he woke up he had no 
recollection of what had happened. 

The late king used to say : " I own I am piqued when I 
see that with all my authority as king over this country, I 
have complained in vain against those tall head-dresses ; for 
not one person has shown the least desire to please me by 
lowering them. And yet a stranger arrives, an English 
nobody, with a flat cap, and suddenly all the princesses 
have gone from one extreme to the other." 

Mme. d'Orl^ans looks older than she is, for she puts on a 
great deal of rouge, and her cheeks and nose are pendent ; 
moreover the small-pox has left her with a trembling of the 



MADAME. 89 

head like that of an old woman. Slie is so indolent she 
expects to have larks drop roasted into her mouth, but 
as we do not live in a land where things are to be had 
for the asking, that is past wishing for. She would like 
very well to govern; but she does not understand true 
dignity, she is too badly bred for that; she knows how 
to live as a simple duchess but not as a granddaughter 
of France. 

My son's intentions are always good and upright ; if some 
things happen that ought not to be, they are certain to be 
the doing of some one else. He is too easy and is not 
sufficiently distrustful ; consequently he is often deceived ; 
for wicked people know his kindness and abuse it shamefully. 
It is a fact that my son has enough education to keep him 
from ever being bored ; he knows music well, and composes, 
not badly ; he paints very prettily ; he understands several 
languages, and he likes to read ; he is well-informed about 
chemistry and comprehends without trouble very difficult 
sciences. And yet, all that does not keep him from being 
bored by everythiag. I have reason myself to be satisfied 
with him. He lives very well with me and gives me no 
ground to complain of him. He pays me much attention, 
and I know few persons in whom he has more confidence 
than he has in me. 

In early days they always called me sister-pacificator, 
because I did my best to keep the peace between Monsieur 
and his cousin la Grande Mademoiselle, and also her sister, 
the Grand-duchess of Tuscany. They quarrelled often, and 
like children, for the merest nonsense. Monsieur was very 
jealous of his children ; he kept them as much as he could 
away from me ; he let me have more authority over my 
daughter and the Queen of Sicily than over my son; but 
he could not prevent me from telling him plain truths. 



90 COEEESPONDENCE OF 

My daughter never in her life did anything to cause me 
uneasiness. 

Monsieur did not like hunting. He never could bring 
himself to mount a horse — except at the wars. He wrote 
so badly that he frequently brought me the letters he had 
written to get me to read them to him, saying with a laugh, 
" You are so accustomed to my writing, madame, do read 
that to me, for I don't know what I said." "We often 
laughed over this with aU our hearts. 

The Due du Maine thought he could have married my 
daughter, but certain merchants who were in Mme. de 
Montespan's apartment overheard her speaking to Mme. de 
Maiatenon of the marriage, — those ladies thinking such 
common persons would not understand them. But the 
merchants spoke up and said, " Mesdames, don't try that ; it 
will cost you your lives if you make that marriage." That 
prevented the thing ; for Mme. de Montespan was so fright- 
ened she went to the king and begged him not to think of 
it any longer. 

The King of Denmark, Frederick IV., seems to me rather 
a fool ; he wants to pass himself off as being in love with 
my daughter ; in dancing he presses her hand and rolls his 
eyes up to heaven ; he began a minuet at one end of the 
hall and ought to have ended it at the other, but he stopped 
in the middle to be told what to do. That distressed me 
for him ; so I rose, took him by the hand, and led him back 
to his place ; I think without that he would be still in the 
same spot. The good soul does not know what is and what 
is not the thing to do. 

The Pretender has been well received in Scotland and 
proclaimed king ; but I cannot tell you more, for we have 
very little news from England, The Queen of England is so 
happy in hearing of her son's safe arrival and good reception. 



MADAME. 91 

The poor woman is not accustomed to rejoice; her satis- 
faction has been so great that a fever which she had 
has passed off. I know from a good source that the pope 
and the King of Spain furnished the money for the Pre- 
tender. The pope gave thirty thousand crowns, and the 
king three hundred thousand; as for my son, he did not 
give a penny. 

Eeligion used to be very reasonable in France before 
the old guenipe reigned here; but she ruined everything 
and introduced all sorts of silly devotions, — rosaries and 
such-like. If any persons wanted to reason upon that 
matter she and the confessor sent them to prison or exiled 
them. Those two caused all the persecutions that were 
levelled in France against the poor Eeformers and Luther- 
ans. That Jesuit with the long ears, Pfere La Chaise, 
began the work in union with the old guenipe, and Pfere 
Tellier finished it ; it was thus that France has been 
utterly ruined. 

The old woman was implacable, and when she had once 
taken a dislike to any one it was for life, and that person 
became the object of a secret persecution that never ceased. 
I experienced this ; she laid many traps for me, which I 
escaped by the help of God. She was dreadfully weary of 
her old husband, who was always in her room. Some per- 
sons assert that she poisoned Mansard ; they say she dis- 
covered that Mansard intended that very day to show certain 
papers to the king which would prove how she had made 
money from the post without the king's knowledge. Never 
in his life did the king hear of this adventure, nor of that 
of Louvois, because no one was inclined to be poisoned — 
that kept all tongues respectful. 

Long before his death the king was entirely converted 
and no longer ran after women ; when he was young the 



92 CORKESPONDENCE OF 

women ran after him ; but he renounced all that sort of life 
when he imagined that he became devout. The real truth 
was that the old witch watched him so closely he dared not 
look at a woman ; she disgusted him with society, to have 
him and govern him alone, and this under pretence of taking 
care of his soul. She controlled him so well that he even 
exiled the Duchesse de la Fert^ who posed as being in love 
with him. When that duchess could not see him she had his 
portrait in her carriage, in order to look at him constantly. 
The king said she made him ridiculous, and sent her an 
order to go and live on her estates. It was suspected, how- 
ever, that the Duchesse de Eoquelaire, of the family of Laval, 
had made a conquest of the king ; certainly his Majesty was 
not angry about her as he was with the Duchesse de la 
Fert^. Gossip had a great deal to say about this intrigue, 

but I never put my nose into it. , 

Paris, 1716. 

A Frenchman, a refugee in Holland, used to write to me 
how the affairs of the Prince of Orange were going. I 
thought that I should do the king a service in communi- 
cating to him what I thus heard ; I did so. The king was 
much obliged and thanked me ; but in the evening he said, 
laughing : " My ministers insist that you are ill-informed ; 
they say there is not a word of truth in what was written to 
you." I answered : " Time will show who is best informed, 
your ministers, or the person who wrote to me; my in- 
tentions were good, monsieur." Some time later, after it 
was proved that King William had gone to England, M. de 
Torcy came to me and said that I ought to inform him of 
the news I received. I rephed : . " You assured the king that 
I received false news ; on which I ordered that nothing more 
should be written to me ; for I do not like to spread false 
reports." He laughed, as he usually did, and said : " Your 



MADAME. 93 

news is always very good." To which. I answered : " A great 
and able minister must have surer news than I, for he knows 
all things." That eveniag the king said to me : " You have 
been ridicuHng my ministers." I replied : " I only returned 
them what they gave." 



III. 

Letters of 1717-1718. 

Paris, 1717. 
M. LE DAUPHIN [Monseigneur] never really loved or hated, 
but he was malicious; his greatest pleasure was in giving 
pain ; when he had a trick to play on any one he began by 
treating them graciously. In every respect he had the most 
inconceivable character that could be imagined. When 
one thought him angry he was often in the best humour ; 
when he seemed content he was cross ; never could we guess 
correctly. He had not heart enough to know what true 
friendship was; he loved only those persons who procured 
him amusement, and disliked all others. For over twenty 
years, as long as he was in the hands of the grande Princesse 
de Conti,^ I was on very good terms with him and he had 
great confidence in me; but after he passed into those of 
Mme. la Duchesse he completely changed. He behaved as 
if he had never seen or known me in his life, and as, after 
Monsieur's death, I never hunted with his Highness I had 
very few relations with him to his death. If he had had 
good sense he would have preferred the Princesse de Conti 
to Mme. la Duchesse, for she had a much better heart ; she 
loved him unselfishly, whereas the other loved nothing in 
the world, and thought only of her pleasures, her interests, 
and her ambition. As long as she attained her ends she 
cared very little for the dauphin, who gave clear proof of his 
weak-mindedness by his dependence upon her. 

1 So-called from her height; she was his half-sister, the daughter of 
Mme. de la Valliere. Mme. la Duchesse was the daughter of Mme. de 
Moutespan. — Tk. 



COREESPONDENCE OE MADAME. 95 

When the King of Spain [his son, the Due d'Anjou] de- 
parted the king wept bitterly, and the dauphin too, but he 
had previously never given to any of his sons the slightest 
sign of attachment. He never had them in his apartments 
morning or evening ; when he was not hunting he was al- 
ways in those of the Princesse de Conti, or, later, in those of 
Mme. la Duchesse. No one would ever have guessed that 
the sons were his ; he treated them as strangers and never 
called them " my son," always " M. le Due de Bourgogne," 
" M. le Due d'Anjou," " M. le Due de Berry ; " and they called 
him " Mon seigneur." 

He lived very well with his wife for two or three years ; 
that is to say, as long as the old woman was satisfied with 
the dauphine ; but as soon as there came a httle coolness 
between them she set herself to make the dauphin believe 
that his wife did not love him, that she cared only for 
Bessola [her maid], and that everybody thought him a fool 
for spending his time in a room where more German was 
talked than French. He was told also that Bessola was 
the confidante of the dauphine's gallantries, and helped her 
to make pleasure-parties with the maids-of-honour. I heard 
all these details from the dauphine herself [Marie-Anne- 
Victoire of Bavaria], for her husband, who still loved her, 
related them to her. But the old witch returned so often 
to the charge, and gave the dauphin so many opportunities, 
that he finally became enamoured of Mile, de Eambure, 
afterwards Mme. de Pohgnac, and as soon as that amour 
began all his friendship for the dauphine departed. 

At times the dauphine was not ugly, when, for instance, 
she had a fine colour. If she had not had such a passion 
for that faithless Bessola, she might perhaps have been 
happy. But that woman, in order to rule her and to main- 
tain herself with the Maintenon, made the poor princess the 



96 COERESPONDENCE OF 

most wretclied creature upon earth. She died tranquil and 
resigned, but they sent her into another world as surely 
as if they had put a pistol to her head. In giving birth 
to the Due de Berry she was so badly managed that she 
became deformed ; before that she had a very pretty figure. 
From that time she never had an hour's health. The 
evening before her death, while the little Due de Berry was 
sitting on her bed, she said to him : " My dear Berry, I 
love you much, but you have cost me dear." M. le dauphin 
was not affected. They had told him so much harm of his 
wife that he did not care for her, and when he muffled 
himself up in his great mourning-cloak he burst out laugh- 
ing. The old guenipe hoped (as really happened) to govern 
the dauphin through his mistresses, which she could not 
have done had he continued to love his wife. That old 
woman had conceived such a terrible hatred to the poor 
princess, that I believe she had given orders to Clement, 
the accoucheur, to manage her ill. What confirms me in 
this idea is that she nearly killed the dauphine by going 
to see her in perfumed gloves ; she afterwards said it was 
I who wore them, which was not true. 

The dauphine often said to me : " We are both unhappy, 
but the difference between us is that your Excellency en- 
deavoured as much as you possibly could to avoid your fate ; 
whereas I did my best to come here, and so I deserve what 
has happened to me." She loved the dauphin as a hus- 
band, but more as if he were her son. They tried to make 
her pass for crazy when she complained. An hour before 
her death she said to me : " I shall prove to-day that I was 
not crazy when I complained and said that I was ill." The 
old guenipe sent her agents among the populace to spread 
a rumour that the dauphine hated France and wanted to 
create new taxes and lay burdens on the people. 




'^../Ayey .=-/yUxyC€^^Ay€^n-ey 



Co9^de^ 



MADAME. 97 

Paeis, 1717. 

Though the late Monsieur received much property with 
me, I was obliged to give it all up to him, — jewels, fur- 
niture, pictures, in short, all that came to me from my 
family ; and I really had not means to live according to my 
rank and maintain my household, which is very considerable. 
I have been ill-used in this respect, but it was rather the 
fault of the Princess Palatine, who allowed my marriage- 
contract to be so ill-drawn. AU the Madames have had 
pensions from the king ; but as these are estabhshed on 
the old footing, they do not afford sufficient means to reach 
the end of the year. I have been obKged to cede my 
jewels to my son ; otherwise I could not live as I should 
and keep up my establishment, which is very large; but 
to do so is, to my thinking, more commendable than to be 
decked with jewels. 

I cannot see why people should have so many different 
garments. All I have are either full-dress gowns, or my 
hunting habit for horseback. I never in my life had a 
dressing-gown, and I have but one wrapper [robe de nuif] 
in my wardrobe to go to bed and get up in. 

I was very glad when the late Monsieur, after the birth 
of his daughter, took a bed to himself, for I never liked the 
business of making children. When his Highness made me 
the proposal I said : " Yes, with all my heart, Monsieur ; 
I shall be very glad of it, provided you do not hate me and 
continue to be a httle kind to me." He promised me that, 
and we were always very well satisfied with each other. 

*It was very annoying to sleep with Monsieur ; he could 
not endure that any one should disturb his sleep ; I was 
obliged to keep myself on the very edge of the bed, so that 
sometimes I fell out like a sack. I was therefore extremely 
pleased when Monsieur, in good friendship and without 

7 



98 CORRESPONDENCE OF 

bitterness, proposed that we should sleep in separate rooms. 
I am like you ; I cannot imagine that any one should re- 
marry; there is but one motive that I can conceive, and 
that is dying of hunger and getting one's bread that way. 

I never had but one hundred louis for cards until the 
death of my mother ; after Monsieur received the money 
of the Palatinate he doubled that allowance. 

The Mar^chale de Villars runs after the Comte de Tou- 
louse ; my son is also in her good graces, and he is not 
discreet. The Mar^chal de Yillars came to see me one day, 
and as he assumes to know much about medals he asked 
to see mine. Baudelot,^ a very honourable and learned 
man, who is in charge of them, was obliged to show them. 
Baudelot is not the most discreet of men, and moreover 
he is little informed as to what goes on at Court. So he 
made a dissertation on one of my medals to prove, against 
the opinion of other savants, that a head vdth horns which 
appears upon it is that of Pan, and not that of Jupiter 
Ammon. To prove his erudition the worthy soul said to 
M. de Villars, " Ah ! monseigneur, here is one of the finest 
medals Madame has ; it is the triumph of Cornificius ; he 
has all sorts of horns. He was a great general like your- 
self, monseigneur ; he has the horns of Juno and of Faunus. 
Cornificius, as you know, monseigneur, was a very able 
general." I interrupted him. " Go on," I said ; " if you 
stop to talk about each medal, you will not have time 
to show them all." But, full of his subject, he replied: 
"Oh, Madame, this one is worth all the rest. Cornificius 
is really one of the rarest medals on earth. Consider it, 
Madame, look at it; here is a crowned Juno crowning 

1 Charles-Louis Baudelot de Dairval devoted his life to the study of 
antiquity ; was a member of the Academic des Inscriptions, and wrote a 
book on " The Utility of Trarelling." (French editor.) 



MADAME. 99 

that great general." In spite of all I did, I could not 
prevent Baudelot from harping on horns to the marshal. 
" Monseigneur knows aU about such things," he said, " and 
I want him to judge whether I am not right in saying 
that those horns are the horns of Pan, and not of Jupiter 
Ammon." Everybody in the room had all they could do 
not to laugh. If it had been done on purpose it could not 
have been more complete. When the marshal had gone, 
I laughed out ; but I had the greatest difficulty in convinc- 
ing Baudelot that he had blundered. 

Paris, 1717. 

It is certain that the Comtesse de Soissons, Ang^hque- 
Cundgonde, daughter of Frangois-Henri de Luxembourg, has 
much virtue and capacity, though, like all the world, she 
has defects. One may say of her indeed that she is a poor 
princess. Her husband, Louis-Henri, Comte de Soissons, is 
very ugly. If her children had been hke their mother they 
would have been very handsome, for aU her features are 
fine ; eyes, mouth, and lines of the face could not be better ; 
her nose is a little too large, and her skin not dehcate. All 
her sons, except Prince Eugfene, have not been worth much, 
and any one who resembles Eugfene cannot be good-looking. 
When he was young he was not so very ugly ; but he has 
grown ugly in growing old ; he never had a fine countenance 
or the noble air ; his eyes are not bad, but his nose spoils 
his face ; his teeth are too large and protrude from his 
mouth ; he is always dirty, and he wears greasy hair which 
he never curls. I think a good deal of Prince Eugfene, for 
he is not selfish. He did a fine action : he left behind him 
here a great many debts ; after he entered the service of 
the emperor and acquired a fortune he paid to the last 
farthing all that he owed, even to those who had no bill or 
written engagement with him and never dreamed of being 



100 COERESPONDENCE OF 

paid. Therefore it is impossible that a man who acted with 
such loyalty could have betrayed his master for money. 
The accusations of the traitor Nimtsch are lies and the 
work of that devil of an Alberoni. I see from the " Gazette 
of Vienna " which you sent me that Prince Eugene does not 
intend to let so horrible a^ accusation drop, but will pursue 
the Comte de Nimtsch to the death. That is right. 

I thank you for the silver coin you send ; it comes 
extremely cl propos. I have also the Doctor Luther in 
gold and in silver. I am convinced that Luther would 
have done much better not to make a separate Church, 
but to have confined himself to opposing the abuses of the 
papacy ; more good would have come from it. 

To go back to what I was beginning to tell you on Wed- 
nesday — I assure you that my son has more enemies than 
friends. His brother-in-law [the Due du Maine] and his 
wife are working with the greatest ardour to rouse the hatred 
of the populace against him. Mme. du Maine is circulating 
writings against him. The children of the Montespan come 
of a malignant race. 

The little king has a pretty face and much judgment, but 
he is a spiteful child ; he loves no one in the world but his 
governess, Mme. de Ventadour ; he takes aversions to people 
without any cause, and likes to say the most wounding 
things to them. I am not in his good graces, but that does 
not trouble me ; for when he is of an age to reign I shall 
not be in this world and dependent on his caprices. When 
I advise my son to be on his guard against all these wicked 
people, he only laughs and says : " You know, Madame, 
that we cannot avoid what God has ordained for us through- 
out all time ; therefore, if I am to perish I cannot avoid it ; 
therefore I shall dp only what is reasonable for my preserva- 
tion, but nothing extraordinary." 



MADAME. 101 

[This is a favourable opportunity to reveal Madame's 
French spelling; the letter is in German, but she quotes 
her son in French, as follows : 

" Vous saves bien, Madame, qu'on ne peust Evitter ce que 
Dieu vous a de tout temps destines; ainsi, sije le suis k 
perir, je ne Le pourris Evitter ; ainsi je feres que ce qui est 
raisonnable pour ma Conservation, mais rien dextraordinaire."] 

My son has studied much ; he has a good memory ; he 
expresses himself well on all sorts of subjects; above all, 
he speaks extremely weU in public; but he is a man, he 
has his faults like others. They do harm to himself only, 
for he is only too kind and good to other people. I tell him 
every day he is too kind ; he laughs and asks me if it is 
not better to be kind than harsh. I don't know where he 
gets his great patience ; Monsieur had none, nor I either. 

When he was fourteen or fifteen years of age he was not 
ugly ; but since then the sun of Italy and Spain so burned 
him that his skin became a deep red. He is not tall, and 
yet he is stout, with fat cheeks ; his bad sight makes him 
squint, and his eyes protrude ; and he has a bad walk. And 
yet I sdo not think he is disagreeable-looking. When he 
dances or rides on horseback he makes a good appearance ; 
but when he goes about in his usual way he does not appear 
to advantage. Close by he sees very well, and can read the 
finest writing, but at the distance of half the length of a 
room he recognizes no one without spectacles. Though he 
talks well on matters of science or knowledge, one can 
easily see that they give him no pleasure ; on the contrary, 
they bore him. I have often observed this to him ; he 
admits that at first he has the greatest desire to know a 
thing, but as soon as he thoroughly knows what he studies 
it gives him no longer the least satisfaction. I love him 
from the bottom of my heart, but I cannot understand how 



102 CORRESPONDENCE OF 

women should be enamoured of him ; for he has in no way 
the manners of gallantry, and he is not discreet; besides, 
he is incapable of feehng a passion and of being attached 
for any length of time to the same person. On the other 
hand, his manners are not polite or seductive enough to 
make him beloved. He is very indiscreet and relates all 
that happens to him. I have told him a hundred times 
that I am amazed that those women run after him so 
madly when I should thiak they would rather run away 
from him. He laughs and says : " You don't know the 
loose women of the present day. To say you have been 
their lover pleases them." 

Paris, 1717. 

I am very glad that my letters have reached you at last. 
M. de Torcy is no friend of mine ; if he could find occasion 
to do me harm he would not let it escape him ; but I do not 
trouble myself about that. My son knows me well ; he 
knows how sincere my attachment to him is, and it would 
be difficult to make us quarrel. There is no use in sealing 
letters with wax ; they have a species of composition, made 
of quicksilver and other substances, which lifts the wax, 
and when the letters have been opened, read, and copied, 
they seal them up so adroitly that no one can perceive that 
they have been opened. My son knows how to manufacture 
that composition ; they call it gama. The Queen of Sicily 
once wrote and asked me if I no longer walked with the 
king, as in her day. I answered with these lines : — 

" Those happy days are gone ; the face of all is changed 
Since to these parts the gods have brought 
The daughter of the Cretan king and Pasiphae." 

Torcy took them to the guenipe, as if I meant her — which 
was true enough ; and the king was sulky with me for a 
long time about it. 



MADAME. 103 

Tlie late king contracted a great many debts because he 
would not retrench his luxury in anything ; and that has 
been the cause of great malversations on the part of busi- 
ness men and their partisans ; for when one sou had been 
lent to the king they turned it by agreement with their 
creatures into a pistole. Thanks to their rascality, on which 
no check was put, they have enriched themselves, but the 
king, and now the country, have been impoverished. My 
son works night and day, with no thanks from anybody, 
to bring things back to a good condition. He has many 
enemies, who pour out against him all sorts of horrid 
threats, and do all they can to rouse the hatred of the 
people against him ; in which they succeed easily, especially 
because he is no bigot. He is so Httle self-interested that 
he has never touched a farthing of what comes to him as 
regent, although he has great needs because of his numerous 
children. The young king has around him persons who 
are very ill-disposed towards my son, — one especially, though 
he is his brother-in-law ; but he is also the falsest of hypo- 
crites. He has an air as if he would eat the very images 
of saints, but he is none the less the most wicked man on 
earth. In the days of the late king when that man flattered 
any one and spoke to him kindly it was taken as a proof 
that he had played him some evil trick. He contributed 
to get his mother sent away from Court so as to please the 
old woman, and he was so anxious to prevent her return to 
Versailles that he ordered her furniture turned out of doors, 
as it were. You can imagine what a man of that nature is 
capable of doing. I fear him for my son as I do the devil ; 
and I think that my son is not sufficiently on his guard 
against him. The old woman wants his life ; all that they 
say of that diabolical woman is below the truth. 

When my son reproached the Maintenon quite gently for 



104 CORRESPONDENCE OF 

slandering him, and asked her to look into her conscience, 
where she knew that what she said were falsehoods, she 
replied : " I spread that rumour because I beheved it." My 
son said : " No, you could not have believed it, for you knew 
the contrary." Thereupon she answered insolently (and I 
admired the patience of my son) : " Did not the dauphine 
die ? " " Could she not have died without me ? " asked my 
son, " was she immortal ? " The old woman replied : " I was 
in such despair at her loss that I blamed the person who 
they told me had caused it." My son said to her, "But, 
madame, you knew of the report that was rendered to the 
king ; you knew that I had done nothiug, and that Mme. 
la dauphine was not poisoned at all." " That is true," she 
replied, " I will say no more about it." 

That humpback Fagon, the favourite of the old guenipe, 
used to say that what displeased him iu Christianity was 
that he could not raise a temple to the Maintenon and an 

altar for her worship. 

Pakis, 1717. 

I have received to-day a great visit, — that of my hero, the 
czar [Peter the Great]. I think he has very good man- 
ners, taking that expression in the sense of the manners 
of a person without affectation or ceremony. He has much 
judgment; he speaks bad German, but he makes himself 
understood without difl&culty, and he converses very well. 
He is polite to everybody, and is much hked. 

He went to Saiat-Cyr and saw the old guenipe, who keeps 
herself completely retired there ; no one can say that she 
has meddled in the slightest thing ; which makes me think 
that woman has stUl some project in her head, though I 
can't imagiue what it can be. She used to reproach me, 
and say it was a shame I had no ambition and never took 
part in anything, and one day I answered : " If a person 



MADAME. 105 

had intrigued a great deal to become Madame, might she 
not be permitted to enjoy that title ia tranquillity ? Imagiae 
that to be my case, and leave me in peace." She said, " You 
are very obstinate." I answered : " ISTo, madame, but I like 
my peace and I regard your ambition as pure vanity." I 
really thought she would burst her skin, she was so angry. 
She said: "Make the attempt; you wiU be aided." "ITo, 
madame," I replied ; " when I think that you, who have a 
hundred-fold more cleverness than I, have not been able 
to maintain yourself at Court as you wished, what would 
happen to me, a poor foreigner, who knows nothing of 
intrigues and does not like them ? " She was angry and 
said : " Fie ! you are good for nothing." 

She never could forgive the king for not having declared 
her queen. She gave herself out to the Kiag of England 
as so pious and humble that the queen took her for a saint. 
The old guenijpe knew very weU. that I was a German who 
could never in my Hfe endure a misalliance, and she 
imagined that it was partly because of me that the king 
would not acknowledge his marriage. The hatred she bore 
me came from that; as long as the queen lived she did 
not hate me. After the death of the king, and since we 
left Versailles, my son has not seen the old woman. The 
mistresses of the late king did not tarnish his glory as much 
as she did; she has drawn upon France the greatest mis- 
fortunes. She occasioned the persecution of the Eeformers ; 
she caused the price of wheat to rise, which brought a 
famine ; she helped the ministers to rob the king ; she was 
guilty of the death of the king in consequence of the worry 
she caused him about that Constitution [the bull Unigen- 
itus] ; she made the marriage of my son, and tried to put 
the bastards on the throne. In short, she threw all things 
into confusion and ruined them. The ministers also served 



106 GORKESPONDENCE OP 

the king very ilL The king never thought that his will 
would be sustained. He said to several persons : " They 
made me write my will and other things ; I did it to get 
peace, but I know that all that will not stand hereafter." 

Paeis, 1717. 

I will tell you frankly why I will not interfere in any- 
thing. I am old ; I need to rest, and do not care to torment 
myself. I am not willing to undertake anything that I can- 
not be sure of carrying through to a good end ; I have never 
learned to govern ; politics I do not understand, nor State 
affairs, and I am much too old now to learn such difficult 
things. My son, thanks to God, has capacity enough to 
guide things without me ; besides, I should excite the 
jealousy of his wife, and his eldest daughter, whom he loves 
better than he does me ; from this, perpetual quarrels would 
result, and that is something that would ia no wise suit me. 
I have been much urged and tormented to use my influence, 
but I held firm. I said I wished to set a good example to 
the wife and daughter of my son. This kingdom has, to its 
sorrow, been too long governed by women, young and old. 
It is time to let men take the helm. I have therefore 
adopted the course of meddling in nothing. In England 
women can reign ; but in Trance, in order to have things go 
well, men must govern. What advantage should I gain by 
tormenting myself night and day? I ask for only peace 
and rest. All my own nearest ones are dead; for whom, 
therefore, should I give myself cares? My life is nearly 
over; there remains to me only enough to prepare for a 
tranquil death, and it is difficult ia great pubhc matters to 
keep one's conscience peaceful. 

I was born at Heidelberg, in September, 1652. When I 
can by my influence help those poor people of the Palatinate 



MADAME. 107 

in the councils whicli decide their affairs, I employ it with 
all my heart. If it succeeds I am very glad ; if it fails I 
think it is the will of God, and I am still content. 

The king had a better opinion of my brain than it 
deserves. He wanted with all his might to make me regent 
with my son. God be praised it was not done. I should 
have gone crazy very quickly. 

I have never had French manners and I never could 
assume them ; I have even made it a point of honour to be 
a German woman, and to preserve German manners and 
ways, which are little to the taste of people here. In the 
matter of soup, I never eat any but milk soup, or beer or 
wine soup ; I cannot endure broths ; I am made ill at once 
if there is the merest little broth ia the dishes I eat ; my 
body swells up, I have colics, and I am forced to be bled ; 
blood puddings^ and ham settle my stomach. 

The kiQg used to say of me: "Madame cannot endure 
misalliances ; she is always mocking at them." But all the 
great ladies who contract such marriages are well rewarded ; 
they are usually unhappy in wedlock and ill-treated by 
their husbands. That is the case of the Princesse de Deux- 
Ponts, who married her equerry. She finds herself very 
badly off, but I do not pity her ; she deserves it. I can't 
help laughing when I think how I forewarned her of what 
would happen. She was with me at the opera and wanted 
with all her might to have that equerry sit behind us. I 
said, " For the love of God, Madame, let your Highness keep 
quiet, and not worry yourself so about Gersdorf ; you do not 
know this country; when people show such anxiety about 
their servants it is always supposed they are ia love with 
them." " Cannot persons feel an interest in their people ? " 

1 Boudins. Littre defines them as guts filled with blood and pork fat. 
— Tb. 



108 COEEESPONDENCE OF 

she asked. I said, " Yes ; and they can take them to the 
opera, but there is no need to have them close beside us." I 
did not know then that I had guessed true. 

Paris, 1717. 

For the last six months, in consequence of a terrible blow 
my son received in the face when playing tennis, one of his 
eyes is all inflamed and fuU of blood. He consulted an 
oculist who prescribed good remedies and made him promise, 
above aU, to restrain himself in eating and drinking, etc.; 
but he cannot resolve to keep that promise and he leads his 
usual hfe. The condition of the eye has therefore grown much 
worse ; my son has had recourse to all the remedies, but he 
will not interrupt his pleasures, or his business, which gives 
him a great deal of reading and writing to do. Yesterday, 
he let himself be bled and purged; to-day he is trying a 
powder which a priest gave him, having got it from Germany. 
This powder has begun by causing a great inflammation ; he 
will have to use it two or three times. I really fear it will 
end in his losing his sight ; and you cannot think into what 
anxiety that idea throws me. 

To answer the other points in your letter, I must teU you 
that it is not allowable to take the communion in one's 
chamber, unless in case of iUness. I should like very much 
to hear sermons in Advent ; but after dinner it is impossible ; 
for if I listen to preaching just after eating it does not depend 
on me not to go to sleep. 

The Princess of Wales is, thank God, safely delivered of a 
son. It is quite common that pregnancies should be delayed, 
like hers, to the tenth month. As for me, I have had three 
children, but without anything extraordinary. I never had 
a miscarriage, and bore them all to the end of the ninth 
month. I lost my first son ; my doctor, old M. Esprit, killed 
him as if he had shot him through the head ; but all that is 



MADAME. 109 

ancient history. He was called the Due de Valois ; but as 
that name is unlucky, Monsieur would not let my second 
son bear it ; that is why he received the name of Due de 
Chartres, which he bore till the death of his father ; then he 
took the name of Due d'Orl^ans, and his son is now the Due 
de Chartres. 

Paris, 1717. 

The moment I get an instant of liberty I go to the chapel 
to pray for my son, whose eye is rather better. He could 
not at one time distinguish colours ; but Cardinal de Polignac 
came to see him to-day when I was with him, and my son 
could perfectly discern the cardinal's red robe ; which proves 
him really better. As long as he was taking remedies he 
kept himself from excesses of eating and drinking and ill- 
conduct of every kind, but I fear that as soon as he is cured 
he will go back to his disorderly hfe. Those loose women 
will run after him again and get him back to their little sup- 
pers, and then his eye will inflame once more. After the visit 
to my son I sat down to table, and after dinner I read four 
chapters of the Book of Job, four psalms, and two chapters 
of Saint John. The two others I put off tiU this morning. 

It is quite true, as you say, that my son's mistresses if they 
really loved him would think about his life and health ; but 
I see, my dear Louise, that you know nothing about French- 
women. Nothing leads them except selfishness and a liking 
for debauchery ; these mistresses think of nothing but their 
pleasure and money ; for the individual himself they would 
not give a hair. That inspires me with utter disgust ; and if 
I were in my son's place I should find nothing seductive in 
such connections. But he is so accustomed to them ; it is 
all the same to him what those women are, provided they 
amuse him. There is also another thing I cannot compre- 
hend. He is never jealous ; he will let his own servants 



110 COERESPONDENCE OF 

have relations witli Ms mistresses. That seems to me dread- 
ful, and proves that he has no love for them. He is so 
accustomed to eat and drink and lead that debauched life 
that he cannot tear himself from it. It often afflicts me to 
the bottom of my heart ; but I hope that God will in the end 
draw him through this labyrinth and wrench him from the 
hands of these wicked people, who are only wanting to get 
money from him. But that is saying enough about vexations. 

The little king makes me two visits a year much against 
his will ; he cannot endure me. I think that is because I 
told him once it did not become a great king to be so refrac- 
tory and obstinate as he is. He was in despair one day 
because Mme. de Ventadour left him. She said: "Sire, I 
shaU return this evening ; be very good during my absence." 
" No, my dear mamma," he replied, " not if you leave me." 

He is well made and has the straightest figure that was 
ever seen and beautiful brown hair in abundance. His face 
is pretty, but he only speaks to those persons who habitually 
surround him. He has intelligence, that is very certain, but 
he ought to talk more. He has invented an Order which he 
gives to the boys who play with him ; it is a blue and white 
ribbon, from which hangs an oval piece of enamelled metal, 
on which is a star and the outline of a little tent which 
stands on the terrace where he plays. He has eyes as black 
as jet, and what may be called a noble look ; the eyes are 
much softer than he really is, for he has a violent little 
temper. His vanity is already dreadful, and he knows very 
well what reverence is. 

Paris, 1717. 

The late king told me a story about the Queen of Sweden, 

Christina. She never wore night-caps, but she twisted a 

towel round her head. Once, not being able to sleep, she 

had music played beside her bed. As the concert pleased 



MADAME. Ill 

her she suddenly protruded her head beyond the curtains 
and called out, " Devil's death ! how well they play ! " The 
eunuchs and Italians, who are not the bravest of the brave, 
were so terrified at the aspect of that singular figure that they 
were struck speechless, and the music had to stop. We can 
still see at Fontainebleau in the great salon the blood of the 
man she caused to be murdered there. She did not wish 
that all that he knew about her should come to be known, 
and she thought certain things would surely be divulged 
unless she put an end to his life. He had already begun to 
tattle, out of jealousy for another man who had supplanted 
him in her good graces. She was very vindictive and given 
to all sorts of debauchery. If she had not had so much 
intellect no one could have endured her. She owed her 
vices to Frenchmen, especially to old Bourdelot, who was 
the doctor of the great Condd ; he encouraged her in her 
license. She talked of things that the worst men only could 
have imagined. She was considered to be an hermaphro- 
dite. The Frenchmen who were with her in Stockholm were 
very depraved men, and it was they who led her into such 
licentiousness. Duke Frederick Augustus of Brunswick was 
charmed with Christina ; he said that in all his life he had 
never met with any woman who had so much intellect and 
was so agreeable and diverting ; he never found the time 
long when he was with her. I told him I heard that her 
talk was most licentious ; he said that was true, but that 
she knew so well how to present things that they did not 
inspire disgust. This queen could never please women, be- 
cause she despised them one and aU. 

Paris, 1718. 

My last letters from England are to the 16th of January ; 
everything is in a sad state there. They say in Paris that 
the refugees are doing their best to excite the king and the 



112 COREESPONDENCE OP 

Prince of "Wales against each other in the hope that a 
regent may be chosen by the parliament, and that the 
country will thus escape the authority of the prince. That 
seems very likely to be true ; but it also seems to me that 
father and son ought to perceive the scheme and thus be 
led to reconciliation with each other; if not, great evils 
will result. There is no motive in the world which can 
justify a son in not submitting to a father, and when, more- 
over, that father is his king. I believe there has never 
existed any tenderness between them; our dear Electress 
used to say it was the son who was in fault. The dear 
Princess of Wales inspires me with such compassion that 
yesterday I wept over her. Her departure from Saint 
James' palace as Countess of Buckenburg [sic] was de- 
scribed to me ; it was truly deplorable ; she fainted several 
times when her three little princes, all in tears, took leave 
of her ; that touched me deeply. The King of England, if 
I may dare to say so, treats her too harshly. She has done 
nothing to justify his forbidding her to see her children, 
whom she loves with such tenderness. Where can they be 
better brought up than beside so sensible and virtuous a 
mother ? According to my ideas, the whole thing is very 
blamable. 

King George was always an artful, dissimulating egoist. 
I have known that for a long time. Whatever marks of 
friendship I gave him he never gave me any sign of con- 
fidence, and sometimes would scarcely speak to me. I had 
to drag his words from him, one by one, which is a very 
unpleasant thing to do; he is completely devoid of good 
natural feelings. I am not surprised that he takes no 
notice of you. He cares for no one ; but it happens to him, 
as it does to such people, that in return nobody cares for 
him. He piques himself on not being civil ; I saw this by 



MADAME. 113 

the manners of those who frequented his Court in Hanover. 
It is not possible to meet any one more sulky and surly 
than young Count Flatten; if he had not been warmly 
recommended to me by my aunt, and if his father and 
mother had not been my good friends, I would have let 
him be put in a place where he would have had time to 
make reflections and learn how to live ; he fully deserved 
the Bastille, but serious reasons led me to save him. 

Paris, 1718. 

My Lorraine children have arrived ; my daughter was 
beside herself with an excess of joy. I do not find her 
much changed, but her husband is, dreadfully. He used to 
have a fine skin and now he has turned to a red-brown and 
he is stouter than my son. I can say now that my chil- 
dren are fatter than I. 

My daughter is gay and content ; but her husband seems 
preoccupied. Yesterday she had a strong attack of fever: 
God grant it may not be the forerunner of small-pox; for 
neither the Due de Lorraine nor my son have had it, and 
the duke would not fail to be with his wife ; three of his 
brothers have died of that terrible malady ; therefore I am 
very anxious about this. I will write you more about it on 
Wednesday. 

They told me yesterday that a nun has just died who 
was one hundred and thirty years old ; she had a long old 
age ; I don't envy it ; if one could stay young it would be 
another thing and would make one's mouth water for it. 

The poor Princess of Wales causes me real pain. In a 
letter of the 3rd of this month she tells me that her husband 
and she have three times asked pardon of the king as they 
would ask it of God, and could not obtain it. I cannot 
understand such a thing. I fear that the prince may be 
concerned in his mother's trouble. I have an idea that the 

8 



114 COKRESPONDENCE OF 

King of England believes lie is not his son ; for it does not 
seem possible that he should act with his own child as he 
has been acting. But, in any case, it appears to me that if 
he pubHcly recognizes him as his son he ought to treat him 
as a son, and not behave so rigorously to a princess who, in 
all her hfe, never did anything against him and has always 
honoured and loved him as a father. From what I see 
and know, I think no good wiU ever come of it ; the irri- 
tation is too great. But the king had better put an end to 
the matter, for it leads to a hundred impertinent things 
being said, and renews certain old and villanous tales that 
had better be forgotten. May God guide all for the best ! 
I have been told that a sort of petition has been sent to 
the Prince of "Wales in which it was said that if he had any 
honour he would admit that the kingdom did not belong 
to him, but to the legitimate sovereign, now called The 
Pretender ; who was the son of James II. as surely as he, 
the prince, was the son of Comte Kdnigsmarck. It was 

terribly insolent. 

Paeis, 1718. 

My Lorraine children leave me in three days ; my heart 
is full ; my daughter would gladly have stayed longer ; but 
the duke was anxious to return. My daughter is, thank 
God, so firmly fixed in good principles that she can mix in 
aU society without fear of contamination. But nothing was 
ever seen like the youth of the present day ; it makes one's 
hair stand on end. I know a daughter who encourages the 
debauchery of her father ; she is not ashamed to procure 
him a pretty waiting-maid, and her mother looks on and 
lets it be done, so that she may be left in peace [evidently 
the Duchesse de Berry]. In short, one sees and hears of 
nothing but shocking things. My daughter tells me that 
though I wrote them to her she could not believe me, until 



MADAME. 115 

she saw them daily with her own eyes. Youth no longer 
believes in God, and neglects all exercise of religion ; con- 
sequently God abandons it. It is sad to live iu a period 
when honest people have such surroundings ; it inspires 
universal disgust. I thank God that my daughter knows 
what virtue is and has a righteous horror for the life that 
people are leading ; that is a great comfort to me. 

I hear that in Germany the princesses are beginning to 
go about and act as they do in France ; it was not so in 
my day. The times have come, as Holy Scripture says, 
when seven women rim after one man ; never were women 
what they are at present ; they act as if their only happiness 
was sleeping with men. What one sees and hears here 
daily, even about the most eminent personages, is not to be 
written down. When my daughter lived here it was not 
so ; therefore she is in a state of astonishment that puts her 
sometimes beside herself and has more than once made me 
laugh. She cannot accustom herself to see, openly at the 
opera, women who bear the noblest names behave to men 
with a familiarity that indicates something very different 
from hatred. She says to me sometimes, " Madame ! 
Madame ! " I answer : " Well, my daughter, what can I do ? 
those are the manners of the day." " But such manners are 
infamous," she replies, with truth. Never was the mercy of 
God needed as it is now, for this epoch of ours is terrible. 
One hears of nothing but quarrels, disputes, robberies, murders, 
and vices of all kinds ; the old serpent, the devil, has shaken 
off his chains and reigns in the air. It behooves all good 
Christians to give themselves up to prayer. 

The Princess of Wales writes me that the Countess of 
Shrewsbury [Madame spells the name Schoresburg] flung 
herself at the knees of the king to ask pardon for her brother, 
who is condemned to be hanged. The king replied that if 



116 COKRESPONDENCE OE 

he granted that pardon he should rouse the anger of the 
English, who would say the guilty man was spared because 
he was a foreigner, whereas were he English he would be 
hanged without pity. He deserved severe punishment, but 
I pity his sister; it is a dreadful thing for nobles to hang 
on a gibbet. Things are going from bad to worse in Eng- 
land, and I dare write nothing more upon that subject. All 
Paris says that King George intends to declare publicly that 
the Prince of Wales is not his son, and, to injure him still 
further, that he means to marry the Schulenberg, now 
Duchess of Munster. I told this to Lord Stair ; he answered 
that nothing of the kind would happen, and I need not 
trouble myself. 

In England, and in France too, the dukes and lords have 
such excessive pride that they think themselves above every- 
body ; and if allowed to have their way they would consider 
themselves superior to the princes of the blood; some of 
them are not really nobles. I rebuked one of our dukes 
very neatly one day. As he was placing himself at the 
king's table above the Prince de Deux Ponts I said, quite 
loud : " How comes M. le Due de Saint-Simon to be pressing 
up to the Prince de Deux Ponts ? does he want him to take 
one of his sons as page ? " Everybody laughed so loud 
that he had to go away. 

Paris, 1718. 

Mme. de Berry has made my daughter a very pretty part- 
ing present ; it is a commode, or rather a table with drawers, 
in which are all kinds of stuffs, scarfs, coiffures, etc., in the 
last fashion. The commode is decorated with gilt ornaments 
worth a thousand pistoles. My son gave his sister a neces- 
saire, that is to say, a small square chest containiug whatever 
is necessary for taking tea, coffee, and chocolate. The cups 
are in white porcelain with raised designs in gold and enamel 



MADAME. 117 

My dangliter has postponed her departure till "Wednesday ; 
the day will come soon enough, for whatever grieves us 
comes more surely and quickly than what gladdens us. 
The king owes a great deal of money to the Due de Lorraine, 
and on account of that debt he has given him one hundred 
thousand francs to pay the costs of this journey. 

The Prince of Wales has done a fine action, and if that 
does not touch the King of England nothing will ever 
restore peace between them. Emissaries went to the prince 
and urged him to put himself at the head of their party. 
He answered that never in his life would he belong to any 
party against his father and king. The King of England 
is a bad man ; he had no consideration for his mother, who 
loved him tenderly, and without whom he never would have 
been King of England. None of her children, even the 
Queen of Prussia, whom she adored, ever treated her as they 
ought. 

My Lorraine children are satisfied with me, and I with 
them. I am also more satisfied with my granddaughter 
the Duchesse de Berry, who behaved very well to them. 
She has good judgment and she shows a disposition to 
return to religion and a disgust for vice. I hope that God 
will have pity upon her and grant her the mercy of a sincere 
conversion. If she had been properly brought-up she would 
have turned to better things, for she has capacity, and a 
good heart ; also she has, undoubtedly, intellect, and is never 
captious. I tease her sometimes, and tell her she only 
fancies she likes hunting ; for at bottom it is only a Hking 
for change of place. She really cares for nothing but the 
death of the game, and she prefers that of a boar to a stag, 
because it procures her good blood-puddings and sausages. 
She amuses herself as much as she can ; one day she hunts, 
another she drives, on a third she goes to a fair ; sometimes 



118 COERESPONDENCE OF 

to see the rope-dancers, or to the comedy or the opera ; but 
always in a scarf, never in a gown with a body to it. She 
sometimes laughs about her figure and her waist. Her flesh 
is very firm, and her cheeks are as hard as stones, 

I once made the Comtesse de Soissons laugh with all 
her heart when she asked me : " How is it, Madame, that 
you never look at yourself when you pass a mirror, as 
other people do ? " I answered : " Because I have too 
much vanity to like to see myself, ugly as I am." There 
cannot be in the whole world more villanous hands than 
mine. The late king often reproached me for them, and 
made me laugh heartily myself. As I never in my life 
could boast of having anything pretty about me, I took a 
way of laughing myself at my own ugliness ; and that has 
answered, for indeed I have often found cause to laugh. 

Mme. de Berry does not eat much at dinner, and it is im- 
possible that she should, because she makes them bring her, 
before she gets up, all sorts of things to eat ; she never stirs 
from her bed till mid-day ; at two o'clock she sits down to 
table, and does not leave it till three ; she takes no exercise ; 
at four they bring her eatables of all kinds, fruits, salad, and 
cheese ; at ten she sups, and goes to bed between one and 
two o'clock ; she drinks the strongest brandy. 

The youth of both sexes in France lead the most repre- 
hensible life ; the more licentious it is, the better they think 
it. That may be very nice, but I confess I do not think it 
is. They do not follow my example in having regular hours ; 
but I am determined not to alter my conduct to suit theirs, 
which seems to me that of sows and hogs. 

Nothing in the world disgusts me so much as the taking 
of snuff; it makes all noses horrible and spreads a fetid 
odour. I have known persons with sweet breath who in 
six months after they took to tobacco, smelt like goats, 



MADAME. 119 

With noses besmeared with snuff they look, forgive me the 
expression, as if they had tumbled into a cesspool. The 
king detested the habit, but his children and his grand- 
children persisted in it, though they knew how he disliked 
it. Persons should abstain altogether, for if they take 
a little they soon want to take much. People call it the 
magic herb, because those who once begin to use it cannot 
go without it. 

Paris, 1718. 

I received a letter yesterday from my daughter ; she and 
her husband are, thank God, safely back at Lun^ville in good 
health. She sends me the measure of the height of her 
eldest son, taken the week before he was eleven years old ; 
he is just as tall as the Due de Chartres, who will be fifteen 
next July. I am afraid my grandson Lorraine is going to 
be a giant, for the Due de Chartres is not small for his age. 
All my Lorraine children are robust ; their mother is healthy 
and always well; she is not good for nothing like Mme. 
d'Orldans. Never did any one hear of such laziness as hers. 
She has had a sofa made on which she can lie while playing 
lansquenet ; we laugh at her, but it does no good. She plays 
cards lying down ; she eats lying down ; she reads lying 
down ; in short, she spends nearly all her life lying down. 
It must be bad for her health ; and in fact, she is almost al- 
ways ill ; one day she complains of her head, another of her 
stomach. But it seems, in spite of that, she can make robust 
children ; her three eldest daughters are strong and healthy ; 
the first and third are tall and stout; they are built hke 
men, — Mile, de Yalois especially. 

The Montespan, the guenipe, and all the waiting-women 
made Mme. d'Orl^ans believe that she did my son great 
honour in consenting to marry him. She cannot endure any 
contradiction on the subject of her vanity in being daughter 



120 CORRESPONDENCE OF 

of the king ; she does not comprehend the difference between 
legitimate and bastard children; her nature is proud and 
full of vanity ; my son often calls her in jest Madame 
Lucifer. She takes all the flattering things that are said to 
her as her right. She thinks her husband prefers his eldest 
daughter, the Duchesse de Berry, to her ; the daughter has 
no great affection for her mother. 

Paris, 1718. 

The person whom I hope to see correct herself [the Duch- 
esse de Berry] has judgment and a good heart. One might 
hope for her return to better ways if she were not in the 
midst of such bad company ; her aunts and cousins on the 
maternal side also set her a bad example, for they lead 
the most irregular lives. The mother acts only from caprice ; 
one day she hates her daughter without knowing why; 
another she approves of all she does, good or bad; that 
makes me fear that the good resolutions made at Easter wiU 
have no results, and that the devil will return to the house 
he left, accompanied by seven other evil spirits more wicked 
than himself, as Holy Scripture tells us. In short, one sees 
and hears nothing here but grievous things ; I can do noth- 
ing; and I am most sincerely afflicted. My daughter did 
not stay here long enough for her good example to have any 
effect. They asked me how I managed to bring her up so 
well ; I answered : by always talking reason to her ; by 
showing her why such or such a thing was good or bad ; by 
never passing over any foolish caprice ; by striving as much 
as possible that she should not see bad examples; by not 
disheartening her with attacks of ill-humour; by praising 
virtue, and inspiring her with a horror of vice of all 
kinds. That is how I brought up my daughter, who, 
thanks be to God, has won the respect of all. But it is 
not to be supposed that we can bring up children with- 



MADAME. 121 

out giving ourselves great trouble; vigilance and activity 
are indispensable. 

In Germany there is one good tbing : those who put no 
curb upon their conduct are despised. Here it is not so ; 
youth imagines that the lectures of old persons are simply 
the result of bitterness in those who did the same things 
themselves in other days. People with bad reputations are 
just as well received and treated as those who have always 
led good lives ; and it is that sight which ruins youth. 

Saint-Cloud, 1718. 
I write you with a troubled heart, and yesterday I wept 
the whole morning. The good and pious Queen of England 
died at seven o'clock yesterday morning at Saint-Germain. 
Assuredly she is now in heaven. She did not keep a penny 
for herself, but gave all she had to the poor ; she supported 
whole families ; she never said an unkind thing of any one, 
no matter who, and if others began to talk to her about their 
neighbours, she would say : " If it is harm of any one, I beg 
you not to teU me." She bore her misfortunes with perfect 
resignation ; she was polite and agreeable, though far from 
being handsome ; she was always cheerful and was con- 
stantly praising our Princess of Wales. I loved her well, 
and her death grieves my heart. She died with sincere 
satisfaction, thanking God for delivering her from this world. 
I think, as you do, that we may look upon her as sainted ; 
more so than her husband ; though I believe that he is also 
in heaven ; he suffered with great resignation. The queen 
had great firmness, and true royal qualities, much gener- 
osity, politeness, and judgment. She used to joke me 
about my liking for the theatre. She told me once, 
laughing, that there had been a time when she could not 
go out, because her horses were dead and she had no 



122 CORRESPONDENCE OF 

money to buy others, but she never complained of her 
misfortunes. 

She was very thin, but more so in the body than in her 
face, which was long, the eyes spiritual, the teeth white and 
large, the skin wan, which showed all the more because she 
never wore rouge ; she had a good expression of countenance, 
and was always very clean. My son, out of compassion for 
her poor servants, has allowed quite a number of them to 
keep their pensions. 

It is perfectly false that she left great sums of money 
behind her. She supported her son, as well as her house- 
hold ; she gave pensions to most of her ladies ; she main- 
tained whole families of English people, and deprived herself 
of necessaries to succour the poor in hospitals. In the 
matter of cupidity she was not an Italian, for she never laid 
a penny aside. It may truly be said that she had all the 
royal virtues. Her sole fault (for no one is perfect) was in 
pushing her piety to such extremes ; but she paid dear for that, 
as it was really the cause of all her misfortunes. She could 
not make any savings while living in France, for her pension 
was paid irregularly, and she was forced to borrow money 
and make debts. It is not true that her servants pillaged 
her furniture. She was lodged at Saint-Germain, where the 
furniture belongs to the king. Few queens of England have 
been happy ; and the kings themselves in that land have not 
had much to make them so. 

Paris, 1718. 

Mme. de Berry has nursed her mother through an illness 
with the devotion of a Gray Sister. I should be very un- 
grateful if I did not feel attachment to her, for she shows 
me aU possible friendship and treats me with such politeness 
that I am often quite touched by it. The Maintenon was 
so afraid that the king would like the Duchesse de Berry, 



MADAME. 123 

and thus be detached from the dauphine, that she did her as 
many ill-turns as she could. But after the death of the 
dauphine she patched matters up, though, to tell the truth, 
the liking of the kiag for the duchess was never great. 

Nothiag new from England : the king is defiant and sus- 
picious. The English are wily and think only of their own 
interests ; they see very well that they can fish ia troubled 
waters, and that as long as there is ill-will between father 
and son, the king will not think of tightening his authority 
upon them. They therefore endeavour to keep up the ill- 
temper that is natural to him. I do not believe he will 
return to Hanover as soon as some people think. I heard 
from the Princess of Wales yesterday that she had written 
to the king a most submissive letter ; the king answered it 
harshly and made her many reproaches on her behaviour. 
He will get himself laughed at for behaving in that way ; 
for the good reputation of the princess is perfectly established. 
I cannot comprehend the king's behaviour. 



IV. 

Letters of 1718-1719. 

Saint-Clotjd, 1718, 
Historians often tell lies. They say in the history of my 
grandfather, the King of Bohemia, that my grandmother, the 
queen, carried away by her ambition, never left her husband 
a moment's peace until he declared himself king. There is 
not a single word of truth in all that. The queen thought of 
nothing but seeing comedies and ballets and reading novels. 
They also say in the history of the late king that it was 
from generosity he retired from Holland and consented to 
make peace. The truth is that Mme. de Montespan, after 
giving birth to a daughter (now Mme. la Duchesse), had re- 
turned to Versailles, and the king longed to see her. 

They also attribute the first war in Holland to the king's 
ambition, whereas I am positively sure that war was under- 
taken because M. de Lionne, then minister, was jealous of 
his wife on account of Prince "William of Furstemberg. To 
get the prince out of France he began the war against 
Holland and the emperor. If historians lie in that way 
about things that have passed before our noses, what are we 
to believe as to the things that are far away from us and 
happened a great many years ago ? I think that histories, 
except those in Holy Writ, are as false as novels ; the only 
difference is that the latter are more amusing. 

Nothing new here. I am told that yesterday a man, 
wanting to beat his wife, with whom he was displeased, 
prayed thus : " My good God, command that the blows I am 



MADAME. 125 

about to give thy servant may correct her and make her 
virtuous." 

I went to Paris yesterday to see my son and his family 
and be present at the representation of a new play, called 
" Artaxerxes," in which there was nothing extraordinary, 
though there were one or two fine points. On entering my 
box they gave me your letter of the 7th. 

I am so well at Saint-Cloud, where I am tranquil and 
happy, whereas in Paris I am never allowed an instant of 
rest ; one person brings me a petition, another requests me 
to use my influence, another solicits an audience, another 
demands an answer to all the letters he has written, until I 
reaUy cannot bear it any longer. And then people are sur- 
prised that I am not charmed with my fate ! In this world 
great people have their troubles as well as Httle people ; that 
is not surprising ; but what is very annoying for the first is 
that they are always surrounded by a crowd, so that they 
cannot hide their griefs nor indulge them in sohtude ; they 
are always on exhibition. 

My son does not like the country, he cares for nothing 
but the life of cities. In that he resembles Mme. de Longue- 
ville, who was extremely bored in Normandy, where her hus- 
band lived. Those about her said, "Good God! madame, 
ennui is gnawing you to death ; why not take some amuse- 
ment ? Here are horses and dogs and forests ; will you 
hunt?" "No," she said, "I don't hke hunting." "Will 
you embroider ? " " No, I don't Hke embroidery." " WiU you 
take a walk, or play at some game ? " " No, I don't like 
either." " Then what will you do ? " some one asked her. 
She answered : " I can't say ; but I don't like innocent 
pleasures." This Duchesse de Longueville was sister of the 
Prince de Condd. She had led a very irregular life, but 
afterwards repented and did penance, and never ceased 



126 COREESPONDENCE OF 

to fast and pray for the rest of her days. She changed 
so much that no one could imagine she had ever been 
handsome; her figure alone preserved its grace — but these 
are old tales. 

Saint-Cloud, 1718. 

Nothing new, except that my son came here yesterday 
afternoon and brought me the decree which alters the legal 
value of the currency. The louis d'or will henceforth be 
worth thirty-six francs; those who have a great deal of 
money will profit finely. I am not of that number ; it is a 
long time since money and I have kept company. 

You ask me if foreigners professing the Lutheran religion 
can obtain military employments here. No, they are never 
admitted except into the Alsace regiment and the Swiss 
corps. 

All parliament is unchained against my son, and it is 
certainly sustained by the eldest of the bastards [Due du 
Maine] and his wife. As soon as any one speaks ill of my 
son and shows himself dissatisfied, the duchess invites him 
to Sceaux, cajoles and pities him, and spares nothing to 
excite him still further against my son. I am amazed at his 
patience. He has courage, goes his straight road, and does 
not fret himself about anything. The parliament of Paris 
has made an appeal to all the other parliaments of France 
to unite with it ; but none as yet have committed that 
folly ; on the contrary, they have shown themselves faithful 
to my son. Everything has been done to rouse the people 
against him by spreading libels, but so far without effect ; 
I think more would have been produced if the bastard and 
his wife had not been mixed up in the matter, because 
they are detested in Paris. I think what prevents my son 
from acting with vigour against the Due du Maine is, 
first, that he dreads the tears and anger of his wife, and 



MADAME. 127 

next, that lie loves his other brother-in-law, the Comte de 
Toulouse. 

My son will soon find means to pay the debts of the 
late king, for Law (or Lass as they call him in France) is an 
Englishman who has great talent. The people are not more 
pressed than they were in the days of the king, but they 
are not reheved, and my son's enemies profit by that un- 
fortunate circumstance to rouse the public hatred agaiast 
him. It is false that he accumulates money ; he has never 
touched what comes to him as regent. I do not beheve 
there exists in the world a more disinterested being ; he is 
even too much so ; he makes beggars of his children. Nearly 
all the tales told in the gazettes about him are hes. 

Saint-Cloud, 1718. 

I thought M. Law was an Englishman but it seems he is 
a Scotchman ; and in point of fact horribly ugly ; but he 
appears to be a worthy man and he has much talent; he 
came near dying yesterday of an attack of cohc. Parhament 
is not quiet yet ; it still makes remonstrances. Everything 
is so horribly ruined in the kingdom that my son will never 
in aU his life have rest or satisfaction again. 

The wife of the humpback [Duchesse du Maine] desired 
to have an interview and explanation with my son. She 
spoke with emphasis, as she does when she acts comedy, 
and told him he ought not to believe that the answer to 
Eitzmaurice's book emanated from her; that a princess of 
the blood like herself did not condescend to write libels; 
that Cardinal de Pohgnac [her lover] had been employed 
in far too great affairs to meddle in such trifles; and that 
M. de Maldzieux was too great a philosopher to know about 
anything but science; and as for herself, she was solely 
occupied in bringing up her children and making them 



128 CORRESPONDENCE OF 

worthy of the rank of princes of the blood — of which they 
were unjustly deprived. My son confined himself to say- 
ing : " I have reason to believe that those libels were written 
in your house and for you ; persons in your service have 
sworn that they saw them written ; I cannot be made to 
either believe or disbelieve things." As to her last words he 
said nothing in reply, and went away. The lady boasted 
everywhere of the energy and firmness with which she spoke 
to him. 

Saint-Cloud, 1718. 

Parliament thwarts my son and tries more than ever to 
excite the bourgeoisie and the populace of Paris against 
him, and great calamities may result. Every night in going 
to bed I thank God that no evil has happened during the 
day. Many persons here would like to have the King of 
Spain for king ; he is a weak man and could be managed 
more easily than my son. Every one thinks solely of his 
own interest. It is asserted that the King of Spain has 
rights to the throne of France, and that a great wrong was 
done when he was induced to renounce his country. All 
this is said in view of the possible death of the Kttle king. 
If he should die, my son would be king, but he would not 
be in greater safety than he is at this moment, and that 
death would be a great misfortune for him. 

I have never known such a summer as this. It has not 
rained for weeks and the heat increases every day ; the 
leaves on the trees are shrivelled as if a fire had gone over 
them. There are prophecies that rain will begin to fall on 
Wednesday. Grod grant it! but until it rains no one will 
see me in Paris. We think it is hot here, but every one who 
comes from Paris exclaims, " Oh ! how cool Saint-Cloud 
is ! " Paris is horrible, very hot and stinking ; the streets 
have such a shocking smell one can't endure it ; the extreme 



MADAME. 129 

heat has made the meat and the fish rot, and that, joined to 
the crowds of people who relieve themselves in the streets, 
makes an odour so detestable that it cannot be borne. 

Saint-Cloud, August 30, 1718. 

Parhament had formed the fine project, if my son had 
postponed action twenty-four hours, to make the Due du 
Maine ruler of France by declaring the king major and 
giving to the duke the sole direction of affairs. But my 
son has disconcerted aU this by removing the Due du 
Maine from the king and degrading him to his proper rank. 
They say that the president of parliament was so frightened 
that he sat petrified as if he had seen the head of Medusa. 
But Medusa herself could not stop the fury of the Duchesse 
du Maine. She launched into horrible threats, and said 
pubhcly she would soon find means to give the regent a 
fillip that should make him bite the dust. It is thought 
the old guenipe is intriguing underhand in this matter with 
her pupil. 

I went this morning to Paris where there is great 
uproar. My son made the king hold a lit de justice, to 
which the parliament was summoned, and was formally 
enjoined, in the king's name, not to meddle with the govern- 
ment, but to keep to its own province, that of judging 
cases and doing justice. The new Keeper of the Seals was 
installed in office, and as it was known positively that the 
Due du Maine and his wife were exciting parliament against 
the king and against my son, the superintendence of the 
king's education was taken from him and given to M. le 
Due; he was also deprived, he and his children, of the 
right to be treated as princes of the blood ; but they main- 
tained the younger brother in all his privileges because he 
has always conducted himself well. 

9 



130 CORRESPONDENCE OF 

Th.e parliament people and the Duchesse du Maine are so 
furious against my son that I am constantly afraid they will 
assassinate him. The duchess makes the most insulting 
speeches ; she said at table : " They say that I push parlia- 
ment to revolt against the Due d'Orldans ; but I despise 
him too much to take such a noble vengeance against him — 
I shall know how to avenge myself otherwise." You see 
what a fury that woman is, and whether I have not good 
reason to be in a continual agony. 

Saint-Cloud, 1718. 

I know all about the tragical affair of the czarewitch ; 
an exact account of it has been rendered to my son by 
the people over there. There are many lies about it in 
the newspapers ; the czar is not as barbarous as he was 
before he travelled here and to other Courts. The czare- 
witch had taken part in a plot the object of which was to 
kill his father ; it was from papers written by his own hand 
that he was condemned to death. He began by denying 
everything, and they could not have convicted him if his 
mistress had not betrayed him and given up his papers. 
My son told me last night at the theatre that the czar had 
assembled a great Council, in which were the bishops and 
all the councillors of State. He had his son brought before 
them, embraced him, and said: "Is it possible that after 
I spared your life you were trying to assassinate me ? " 
The prince* denied everything. Then the czar gave to the 
Council the letters which had been seized, and said : " I 
cannot judge my own son ; judge him, and let him find 
mercy and not be proceeded against by the full rigour of 
the law." The Council unanimously condemned the prince 
to death. When the czarewitch heard the sentence he was 
overcome with emotion and remained some hours without 
being able to speak. Then he asked to see his father once 



MADAME. 131 

more "before lie died. He confessed everything to him and 
begged Ids forgiveness with tears. He lived two days after 
that, and he died in the greatest repentance. Between our- 
selves, I think they poisoned him, so as not to have the 
shame of seeing him in the hands of the executioner. It 
is a dreadful story and has the air of a tragedy ; it is like 
those of Livius Andronicus. 

I am still very uneasy on the subject of my son. He 
has unfortunately many enemies, but still more false friends ; 
everything is to be feared from both. One of my grand- 
daughters is determined to be a nun, in spite of my wishes 
and those of her father. The mother has brought her 
children up in a way that is a matter of derision and shame ; 
I am forced to see it daily ; but all that I could say would 
do no good. I 

My heart is full when I think that is the day when our 
poor Mile, de Chartres is to make her profession, I have 
represented to her all I could think of to turn her from that 
cursed resolution, but without result. In convents the nuns 
take the names of saints ; my granddaughter has taken 
that of Sister Batilde. ISTo one is afflicted to the point 
of weeping, which would surely have happened to me had 
I been present at her profession. I do not know the 
motives that determined her; she only told me that she 
felt herself perfectly capable of enduring the life. 

Mile, de Valois, the fourth daughter, is not on good terms 
with her mother, who tried in vain to make her marry 
the Prince de Dombes, the eldest son of the Due du Maine. 
The mother constantly reproaches the daughter and tells 
her that if she had married her nephew the misfortune 
which has faUen upon her brother would never have hap- 
pened. She is so unwilling to have her daughter before her 
eyes that she has asked me to keep her for a while with me. 



132 COERESPONDENCE OF 

The old guenipe must think herself immortal to still wish 
to reign though she is eighty-three years old. The blow 
which struck the Due du Maine has shaken her roughly. 
But she has not lost all hope, and she is so little scrupulous 
as to the means of reaching her ends, that I am very uneasy, 
for I know what usage she can make of poison. What has 
happened to the Due du Maine is a terrible blow to her, and 
my son is never upon his guard ; he goes about the environs 
at night in strange carriages ; he sups in one place and then 
in another with his companions, among whom are many who 
are quite worthless; they are clever enough, but have no 
good quahty. 

People talk in diverse ways of the Duchesse du Maine. 
Some people say she beat her husband and broke the mirrors 
in her room to bits, also everything else that was breakable 
when she received the news of his overthrow. Others say 
she never said a word and only wept. M. le Due is charged 
with the education of the king. He said that he did not in 
the beginning ask for that office because he had not reached 
his majority ; but now in the actual state of things he did 
demand it, and he obtained it. 

I must tell you of a most amusing dialogue between Lord 
Stair and the Spanish ambassador. Prince Cellamare. The 
latter had reported all over Paris that it was entirely false 
that the English fleet had beaten the Spanish fleet ; and the 
partisans of Spain who are here managed so well that the 
news of the defeat was no longer believed, when, suddenly, 
the son of Admiral Byng arrived, bringing the official account 
of the action and a list of the ships which the Enghsh had 
captured, burned, or sunk. Lord Stair, having received these 
documents, said to Prince Cellamare : " Well, monsieur, 
what do you say now about your fleet ? " "I say," repHed 
the ambassador, " that the fleet is safely at Cadiz." " I am 



MADAME. 133 

not talking about the fleet at Cadiz," said Stair. " I mean 
that of Messina." " The fleet of Cadiz and all the galleons 
richly laden have entered the port of Cadiz," returned the 
prince ; and no other answer could be got from him. 

The little dwarf [Duchesse du Maine] says she has more 
courage than her husband, her sons, and her brother-in-law, 
and, like another Jael, she will kill my son by hammering 
a nail into his head. My son does not trouble himself about 
her threats. When I teU him he ought to be upon his guard, 
he laughs and shakes his head as if I were talking nonsense. 
But the perils that surround my son's existence make me 
spend many a sleepless night, and certainly his regency has 
not been to me a subject of satisfaction. 

Paris, 1718. 

The affair of the Due du Maine is not one of those things 
that can be forgotten, at least not so long as those two old 
hussies are living [Mme. de Maintenon and the Princesse des 
Ursins] ; for they stir him up, together with his little devil 
of a wife, to all sorts of secret plotting against my son. 
Mme. des Ursins has one good thing about her, however: 
she does not call upon the good God to assist her intrigues. 
My son is not in safety, and that troubles me extremely. I 
do my best to be resigned to the divine will and to accept 
whatever it provides ; but the heart of a mother is too tender 
about an only son. 

You may move lions and tigers and all sorts of wild beasts 
sooner than wicked people when ambition and cupidity are 
the cause of their enmity. All arguers on the condition of 
the country do not know the deplorable state in which my 
son found the kingdom. When the change in the govern- 
ment occurred each person imagined he would grow rich; 
they praised my son and expected marvels of him ; as these 
marvels have not been realized, because they were impos- 



134 COERESPONDENCE OF 

sible, blame is now substituted for praise. There would be 
little harm if such complaiuts exhaled in words, but the 
discontented are forming intrigues and plots. The French 
will not stop at anythiag, and they do not know what 
gratitude is. 

Paris, 1718. 

When I first came to France I saw here many persons 
such as one may not find again in centuries. There was 
Lulli, for music ; Beauchamp, for ballets ; CorneiUe and 
Eacine, for tragedy ; Moli^re, for comedy ; la Chamelle and 
Beauval, actresses; Baron, Lafleur, Torihfere, and Gu^rin, 
actors. All these persons excelled in their vocations. La 
Duclos and la Eaisin were equally good; the latter had a 
great deal of charm. Her husband was also excellent in 
comic parts. There was likewise a good harlequin and a 
capital scaramouch. There were good singers at the opera, 
Cl^difere, Pomerueil, Godenarche, Dum^nil, la Eochechouard, 
Mauvry, la Saint-Christophe, la Brigogne, la Beaucreux. All 
that one sees and hears now does not come up to such 
talents. 

Everything goes to beat of drum between my son and 
his mistresses, without the least gallantry. It reminds me 
of the old patriarchs who had so many women. My son has 
a good deal of King David about him ; he has courage and 
spirit, he is a good musician, he is small, brave, and ready to 
love any woman ; he is not particular in that respect ; pro- 
vided they are good-humoured, very shameless, and can eat 
and drink a great deal, he does not mind about their faces. 

The Due du Maine and his party have let his sister [the 
Duchesse d'Orl^ans] know that if my son dies she wiU 
be made regent, and they have promised her they would 
then act in all things by her will, and she would be the 
greatest figure that there was in the world. They told her 



MADAME. 135 

they meant no harm to my son, but that he could not live 
long, his hfe was so disorderly; that he must die soon, or 
else become blind, in which case he would consent to her 
exercising the regency. I heard all this from a person to 
whom the Due du Maine himself told it; and when one 
knows it one is not surprised that Mme. d' Orleans wanted to 
force her daughter to marry the Due du Maine's son. 

Saint-Cloud, 1719. 

Thank God, my son is now in perfect health; he came 
here last night and supped and slept, and returned this morn- 
ing to Paris ; he was very gay indeed. He told us that in 
Spain they have enormous grapes that intoxicate like wine, 
and that once after eating only one grape his head swam ; 
he went to a convent and said all sorts of foohsh things to 
the nuns, without knowing what he was talking about. 

Mme. du Maine is not larger than a child of ten. When 
she shuts her mouth she is not ugly, but she has villanous, 
irregular teeth. She is not very plump, has pretty eyes, 
and is white and fair, but puts on a horrible quantity 
of rouge. If she was as good as she is bad there would 
be nothing to say against her ; but her malignancy is 
intolerable. She is easy during the day, which she spends 
playing cards, but when evening comes the tempers and 
the follies begin ; she torments her husband, her children, 
and her servants till they do not know how to bear it. She 
is no beauty, but she has a great deal of intelligence ; she 
is very well educated and can talk on all sorts of subjects, 
and that attracts to her learned men ; she knows how to 
flatter the discontented and excite them against my son. 
She is lord and master of her husband. He holds many 
offices and can give places to a great many persons : in the 
regiment of the guards, of which he is general ; in the 



136 COEEESPONDENCE OF 

artillery, of whicli lie is grand-master ; in the carbineers, to 
■which he appoints all officers; he has also his own regi- 
ment ; and these favours rally to him a great many persons. 

Pakis, December 18, 1718. 

My son has found himself obliged to arrest Prince 
Cellamare, because they found on his messenger, who was 
the Abb^ Porto-Carrero, letters from the ambassador which 
revealed a conspiracy against the king and against my son. 
The ambassador was arrested by two of the Councillors of 
State. In his secret despatches he warned Alberoni to be 
very careful not to be on good terms with my son, because 
as soon as the treaty was signed he meant to poison the Httle 
king; the ambassador added that he would see that my 
son had his hands too full to thiak of war, for he had 
brought a number of provinces to promise to revolt; that 
their party was strong in Paris, and that Alberoni had only 
to send money and not spare it. I believe the lamester, 
brother of my daughter-in-law, will be found in this affair. 
The ambassador has been interrogated by the two Councillors 
of State, and he admitted, laughing, that he wrote the 
letters in order to avoid the evils of war, and wanted simply 
to frighten my son. When they asked him why he had 
said such infamies of the regent, he replied that he must 
admit there had been a little poison in his remarks, but 
that poison was necessary to compose an antidote. What 
is very strange is that the Marechal de Noailles, once my 
son's sub-governor, is implicated in the plot ; that is be- 
cause he is related to that devil incarnate, the Princesse 
des Ursins, who wiU pursue my son to the death, — her sole 
motive being that he thought her too old to wish to be her 
lover. Cellamare's letters have been printed, so that every 
one can see the thread of the conspiracy. 



MADAME. 137 

If the Abb^ Dubois were at his first lie he would be dead 
long ago ; he is passed master in the art of lying, above all 
when it is to his personal advantage : if I wrote down all 
that I know about that, it would make a long litany. It 
was he who clandestiaely told the king at the time of my 
son's marriage what he had better say and do to bring it 
about; he also had conferences on that subject with the 
Maintenon. He behaves now as if he thought that he and 
I were perfectly agreed, and no matter what disagreeable 
things I say to him, he turns them aU into jest. I will do 
him justice and say he is a man of capacity ; he talks well 
and is good company; but he is false and selfish as the 
devil ; he looks like a fox, his deceitfulness can be read in 
his eyes. His portrait might be made as a fox crouching 
on the ground to pounce on a hen. But he can express 
himself so well as an honest man that I regarded him as 
such till the marriage of my son ; it was then I discovered 
his trickery. If that abb^ were as good a Christian as he 
is an able man, he would be excellent ; but he beheves in 
nothing, and it is that which makes him false and a scoun- 
drel. He is well-informed, no doubt of that, and he gave 
my son a good education ; but I wish he had never seen 
him, and then this miserable marriage, which I deplore, 
would never have taken place. Except the Abbd Dubois, 
no priest has any favour with my son. 

Paris, 1719. 

It is certain that my son is much to be pitied on account 
of his wife, and for this, if there were no other reason, I 
cannot comprehend why he should like the Abb^ Dubois 
as he does ; for it was that abb^ who persuaded him to 
consent to the marriage and plunged him into all that 
affliction. My son sees his wife every day; if she is in 
a good humour he stays a long time with her; if she is 



138 COEEESPONDENCE OF 

out of temper, which often happens, he goes away and says 
nothing. 

I used to be attached to the Abb^ Dubois because I 
thought that he truly loved my son and only thought of his 
good and his advantage ; but when I found he was a faith- 
less dog lookiug to nothing but his own interests, and did 
not care in the least for my son's honour, but was helping to 
precipitate him to eternal damnation by letting him plunge 
into debauchery, all my esteem for that httle priest changed 
to contempt. I heard from my son himself that the abb^ 
met him once as he was about to enter a bad house, and 
instead of taking him by the arm and leading him away, 
he only laughed. By such laxity and by my son's mar- 
riage he proved that neither faith, fidelity, nor decency was 
iu him. I am not wrong in suspecting him of taking part 
in that marriage. What I know I have from my son him- 
self and from the persons around the old vilaine in the 
days when the abb^ went to her secretly at night to help 
her intrigues and betray the young master whom he sold. 

Saint-Cloud, 1719. 
I am so troubled that my hand trembles : my son has 
come to teU me that he has been obliged to decide on arrest- 
ing his brother-in-law, the Due du Maine and the duchess. 
They are the leaders of the shocking Spanish plot. All is 
discovered; the papers of the ambassador of Spain were 
seized, the persons arrested have confessed. The duchess, 
being a princess of the blood [daughter of M. le Prince de 
Cond^], was arrested by four captains of the guard ; her hus- 
band, who was in the country, by a lieutenant. That makes 
a great difference between them. The duchess was sent 
to Dijon, and her husband to DouUens, a little fortress. 
Their people who were in the plot have been put in the 
Bastille. 



MADAME. 139 

Mme. d'Orl^ans is much distressed, but is much more 
reasonable than Mme. la Duchesse. She says that, as her 
husband was compelled to adopt such rigorous measures 
against his brother-in-law, there must have been strong 
reasons. 

There is great discord among the clergy. The bishops 
are disunited ; some are for the pope and the doctrine of 
the Jesuits; others support the Jansenists. I wish that 
both sides took more care to live like Christians and die 
well; leaving disputes to those who find them to their 
taste. I do not trouble myself about either party. 

Cardinals cannot be arrested, but you can exile them. 
Cardinal de Pohgnac has therefore received orders to retire 
to one of his abbeys and stay there. Love turned his head. 
He was formerly a good friend to my son, but he changed 
as soon as he attached himself to that little frog. Magny 
is not yet arrested; he is hiding from convent to convent 
among the Jesuits. My son showed me a letter that Mme. 
du Maine had written to Cardinal de Pohgnac, which was 
seized among his papers. A most virtuous and estimable 
person she is, truly ! In this fine letter she says : " We go 
to-morrow to the country ; I will arrange the apartments so 
that your room can be near mine ; try to manage as well as 
last time, and we will give ourselves heart-joy." 

Paris, 1719. 

I wrote you that the Due and Duchesse du Maine were 
the leaders of the plot ; since then the proof of the duke's 
culpability has been found in a letter to him from Alberoni, 
in which are these words : " As soon as war is declared, fire 
all your mines." Nothing can be clearer. They are great 
wretches. 

Though the treason is discovered, all the traitors are not 



140 COEEESPONDENCE OF 

yet known. My son laughs and says: "I hold the head 
and tail of the monster, but not its body as yet." The Due 
and Duchesse du Maine have written on all sides to justify 
themselves. There is such wickedness and falsehood in 
what they say that I cannot endure the thought of it. No 
one can imagine the libels they have spread in the provinces 
about my poor son; they have also sent them to foreign 
coimtries. 

Parliament is now on good terms with my son, and has 
rendered a judgment wholly in his favour ; that shows how 
the du Maines had stirred it up against him. The Jesuits 
may, very likely, be secretly plotting against my son, for all 
the partisans of the Constitution [buU Unigenitus] are his 
adversaries ; but they keep themselves quiet, and nothing is 
shown to compromise them. They are clever people. Mme. 
d'Orl^ans is beginning to laugh and show satisfaction ; which 
worries me, because I know she has consulted the president 
of parliament [Mesmes] and other persons to learn whether 
in case of her husband's death, she could be appointed regent 
with her son. The president answered no ; that the regency 
would devolve on M. le Due, which answer seemed to greatly 
disturb her. 

My son made me laugh yesterday. I asked him how the 
Maintenon was ; he answered, " Wonderfully well." I said, 
" How can that be, at her age ? " to which he replied : " Don't 
you know that the good God to punish the devil makes him 
stay a very long time in a villanous body ? " 

Paris, April 20, 1719. 

Saturday evening we lost a pious soul at Saint-Cyr, the 
old Mamtenon. The news of the arrest of the Due du Maine 
and his wife made her faint away, and it may have been 
the cause of her death, for from that moment she had no 



MADAME. 141 

rest. Anger and the loss of the hope to reign through him 
turned her blood and gave her the measles, and for twenty- 
days she had continual fever. A storm which came up 
made the disease strike inward, and it stifled her. She was 
eighty-six years old. I have it in my head that what 
grieved her most at the last was leaving my son and me 
behind her in good health. 

She died like a young person. She gave herself eighty- 
two years, but she was really eighty-six. If she had died 
twenty years ago I should have cordially rejoiced, but now 
it gives me neither pleasure nor pain. There is nothing 
to wonder at in her dying like a young person. In the 
other world, where all are equal and there is no difference 
in rank, it will be decided whether she stays with the king 
or the paralytic Scarron ; but if the king knows then aU 
that was hidden from him in this world, there is no doubt 
he wiU return her very willingly to Scarron. 

Paris, 1719. 

It appears that the Due de Eichelieu was not in the 
conspiracy of the Due and Duchesse du Maine, but had a 
plot of his own, which has put him in the BastUle. He 
took it into his head that he was so considerable a person 
he could not be refused a certain marriage far above his just 
pretensions. When that hope vanished, he began, in his 
vexation, to plot. He is an arch-debauchee, and a coward ; 
he beUeves in neither God nor His word ; in all his Ufe he 
never has done, and never will do a worthy thing ; he is 
ambitious and false as the devil. He is not yet twenty-four 
years old. I do not think him as handsome as the Court 
women do, who are mad about him. He has a pretty figure 
and fine hair, an oval face and very brilliant eyes, but every- 
thing about him indicates a rascal ; he is graceful and is not 



142 COEEESPONDENCE OF 

witliout cleverness, but his insolence is great; lie is tlie 
worst of spoiled youths. The first time he was put in 
the Bastille was for saying he was an actual lover of the 
Duchesse de Bourgogne and all her young ladies; which 
was a horrible lie. 

Saint-Cloud, 1719. 

You ask me what has recently made me so angry ; I 
cannot tell it in detail, only in the gross. It is the horrible 
coquetry of Mile, de Valois with that cursed Due de Eiche- 
lieu, who has shown the letters that he had from her, for he 
only loves her from vanity. All the young seigneurs of the 
Court have read the letters in which she assigns him rendez- 
vous. Her mother wanted me to take her here with me, 
which I refused curtly ; but she is now returning to the 
charge. I am horribly vexed ; the human species disgusts 
me. I cannot endure the idea of having her; but I must, 
to avoid worse scandal ; the very sight of that heedless 
creature will make me ill. All this is the result of the 
apathy and nulhty of the mother; may God forgive her! 
but she has brought up her daughters very ill. 

The Due de Eichelieu is bold and full of impertinence ; 
he knows the kindness of my son and abuses it ; if justice 
were done he would pay for his manoeuvres and his temerity 
with his head ; he has triply deserved it. I am not cruel, but 
I could see him hanging from a gibbet without a tear. He 
is now walking about on the rampart of the Bastille, curled 
and bedecked, while the ladies are standing in the street 
below to see that beautiful image. Many tears will be shed 
in Paris, for every woman is in love with him ; I don't know 
why, for he is a little toad in whom I can see nothing 
agreeable. He has no courage ; he is impertinent, faithless, 
and indiscreet ; he says harm of all his mistresses ; and yet 
a princess of the blood-royal [Mile, de Charolais, grand- 



MADAME. 143 

daughter of M. le Prince de Condd] is so in love with him 
that when he became a widower she wanted to marry him. 
Her grandmother and brother formally opposed it, and with 
reason, for independently of the misaUiance she would have 
been, all her life, most unhappy. He has had each of his 
mistresses painted in the various habits of the rehgious 
orders : Mile, de Charolais as a Franciscan nun, — they say it 
is an excellent Hkeness; the Mar^chale de Villars and the 
Mardchale d'Estr^es in the Capucin habit. 

Saint-Cloud, 1719. 

I do not mingle in any way with what is going on in 
Eome. The pope and I have no relations with each other ; 
therefore no one need address himself to me to get a dis- 
pensation. 

It is not true that I have changed my name; I cannot 
be called in France by any other title than that of Madame, 
for my husband, as brother of the king, bore the title of 
Monsieur, and I as his wife cannot bear any other than 
that of Madame. The daughters of the king are also called 
so, but, to distinguish them, the baptismal name is added ; 
for instance, the three daughters of Henri II. were called : 
Madame Ehsabeth, who became Queen of Spain; Madame 
Henriette, who became Queen of England ; and Madame 
Christine, who was afterwards Duchesse de Savoie. The 
daughters of the king's brother are called Mademoiselle ; 
the eldest bears that title with nothing added to it; the 
others add the name of their appanage ; that is how it is 
there is a Mademoiselle de Chartres, Mademoiselle de Valois, 
Mademoiselle de Montpensier. It is the same with the 
grandsons of the king ; they should be called Monsieur with 
the names of their appanages attached; it was always an 
abuse to say the Due de Bourgogne, the Due de Berry: 



144 CORRESPONDENCE OF 

they ouglit to have been called Monsieur de Bourgogne, 
Monsieur de Berry. 

I went last Sunday to see the Duchesse de Berry and 
found her in a sad state. She had such frightful pains in 
the soles and toes of her feet that the tears came into her 
eyes. I saw that my presence prevented her from scream- 
ing and so I came away. I thought she looked very ill. 
They have had a consultation of three physicians, who decided 
on bleeding from the foot. It was difficult to bring her to 
consent, for the suffering in her feet is so unbearable that 
she screams if the sheets merely touch them. However, 
the bleeding succeeded and she has suffered less since. It 

was gout in both feet. 

Saint-Cloud, 1719. 

I went yesterday to see the Duchesse de Berry ; she is 
better, thank God, but she cannot walk yet. Two great 
boils have come upon the soles of her feet, which bum 
them as if with red-hot iron ; it is a very singular illness. 
Twice a week they give her medicine, and the other days 
an enema ; both do her good. It seems that her illness 
comes from the frightful gluttony in which she indulged 
last year. 

I told you my son had a fever ; he is better now ; but I 
fear a relapse, for he is, to say the least, as much of a 
glutton as his daughter; and he will not listen to any 
advice. 

The English nation is a wicked nation, false and ungrate- 
ful. Most of the persons of rank who were at Saint- 
Germain, whom the late queen supported (imposing upon 
herself personally the greatest privations in order to do so) 
now declaim against her, and tell a thousand lies of that 
good and virtuous queen. All this fills me with wrath. 

My son is really too kind ; that little Due de Eichelieu 



MADAME. 145 

having assured Mm that he had fully intended to reveal to 
him the plot, he believed him and has set him at hberty. 
It is true that the duke's mistress, Mile, de Charolais, never 
left my son a moment's peace about it. It is a horrible thing 
for a princess of the blood to declare in the face of all the 
world that she is as amorous as a cat, and that her passion is 
for a scoundrel of a rank so beneath her own that she cannot 
marry him, and who is moreover unfaithful to her, for he is 
known to have half a dozen other mistresses. When she is 
told of that she replies : " Pooh ! he only has them to sacri- 
fice them to me and to teU me all that passes between them." 
It is really an awful thing. 

If I beheved in sorcery I should say that that duke pos- 
sessed a supernatural power ; for he has never yet found a 
woman who opposed him the slightest resistance ; they all 
run after him, and it is literally shameful He is not hand- 
somer than others, and he is so indiscreet and gabbhng that 
he says himself if an empress beautiful as an angel fell in 
love with him and wished to be his on condition that he 
would not teU of it, he should prefer to leave her on the spot 
and never look at her again. He is a great poltroon, but very 
insolent, without heart or souL I revolt at the thought that 
he is the petted darling of women, and I am quite sure he 
will only show ingratitude for my son's kindness — but I 
wiU not say another word about that personage ; he puts me 
out of all patience. 

The harm that is said of M. Law and his bank is the effect 
of jealousy ; for nothing better could be found. He is pay- 
ing off the fearful debts of the late king, and he has dimin- 
ished the taxes, lessening in that way the burdens that are 
weighing down the people ; wood does not cost the half of 
what it did ; the duties on wine, meats, in fact, all that is 
consumed in Paris have been aboHshed ; and that has caused 

10 



146 COEEESPONDENCE OF 

great joy among the people, as you may suppose. M. Law 
is very polite. I think a great deal of him ; he does aU he 
can to be agreeable to me. He does not wish to act secretly, 
like those who have preceded him in the management of the 
finances, but pubhcly, with honour. It is quite false that he 
has bought a palace from the Duchesse de Berry ; she has 
none to sell ; all the houses she has return to the king, — 
such as Meudon, ChSville, and La Muette. 

Law is so pursued that he has no peace day or night ; a 
duchess kissed his hands in sight of everybody, and if 
duchesses kiss his hands, what will not the other women 
kiss ? Impossible to have more capacity than he, but I 
would not for all the gold in the world be in his place ; he 
is tormented like a lost soul ; besides which his enemies are 
spreading all sorts of wicked tales about him. I am tired 
out with hearing of nothing but shares and milUons, and I 
cannot hide my ill-humour. People are flocking here from 
all corners of Europe ; during the last month there have been 
in Paris two hundred and fifty thousand more persons than 
usual ; they have had to make rooms in lofts and barns, and 
Paris is so full of carriages that there is great difficulty in 
getting through the streets, and many persons have been 
crushed. One lady meaning to say to M. Law, " Give me a 
concession," called out in a loud voice, " Ah ! monsieur, give 
me a conception ; " to which M. Law repHed : " Madame, you 
have come too late ; there is no way at present by which you 
can obtain one." 

Saint-Cloud, 1719. 

I am afraid that the excesses of the Duchesse de Berry in 
eating and drinking will put her underground. The fever 
never leaves her and she has two paroxysms of it daily. 
She shows neither impatience nor anger, though she suffered 
greatly from the emetic they gave her yesterday. She has 



MADAME. 147 

become as thin and shrunken as she was fat ; yesterday she 
confessed and received the communion. 

July 17, 1719. 

The Duchesse de Berry died last night between two and 
three o'clock ; her end was very gentle ; they say she died 
as if she fell asleep. My son remained beside her until 
she had entirely lost consciousness. She was his favourite 
child. 

The poor duchess took her own life as surely as if she 
had put a pistol to her head ; she secretly ate melons, 
figs, milk; she owned it to me herself, and her physician 
told me she locked her door against him and all the other 
doctors for fourteen days in order to do as she Kked. When 
the storm came up, as it did, she turned to death. She said 
to me last night : " Ah ! Madame, that peal of thunder did 
me great harm," — and indeed it was very visible. She 
received the last sacraments with such firmness that it wrung 
our hearts. 

My son has lost the power to sleep; his poor daughter 
could not have been saved ; her head was full of water ; she 
had an ulcer in the stomach, another in the hip, the rest of 
her inside was like houillie and the liver attacked. She was 
taken at night, secretly, with all her household, to Saint- 
Denis. Such embarrassment was felt about her funeral 
oration that it was judged best to have none at all. She 
said she died without regret, because she was reconciled with 
God, and that if her life were prolonged she might offend 
Him again. That touched us in a way I cannot express. 
At heart she was a good person ; and if her mother had 
taken more care of her and had brought her up better there 
would be nothing but good to say of her. I own that her 
loss goes to my heart — but let us talk of something else ; 
this is too sad. 



148 COREESPONDENCE OE 

The reason you could not read my last letter was that it 
was partly torn by one of my dogs just as I finished it. I 
see you do not like dogs, for if you loved them as I do you 
would forgive their little faults. I have one, named Beine 
inconnue, which understands as well as a man, and never 
leaves me an instant without weeping and howling as long 
as I am out of her sight. 

Saint-Cloud, 1719. 

Yesterday, directly after my dinner, I went to Paris, and 
found my poor son in a state to melt a heart of rock. 
He is afflicted to the soul, and all the more because he sees 
that if he had not shown such excessive indulgence to his 
dear daughter, if he had better acted a father's part, she 
would now be Hving and healthy. 

With all her revenues she leaves behind her debts amount- 
ing to 400,000 francs, for my son to pay. Those people 
about her robbed and pillaged the poor princess horribly ; 
but that is always the way with a brood of favourites. 
Her marriage with that toad's head [Rion] is unhappily but 
too true. He is not, however, of a bad stock ; he is allied 
to good families ; the Due de Lauzun is his uncle, and Biron 
his nephew; but, for all that, he was not worthy of the 
honours that came to him. He was only a captain in the 
king's regiment. Women ran after him. I thought him 
ugly and repulsive, and sickly looking besides. When the 
news of the Duchesse de Berry's death reached the army, the 
Prince de Conti went to find Eion and made him this pretty 
speech : " She is dead, your milch cow, and you need not talk 
any more about her." My son feels rather stung ; but he 
does not wish to seem to know of it. 

Saint-Cloud, 1719. 

I promised to tell you about my journey to Chelles [to 
witness the installation of her granddaughter as abbess of 



MADAME. 149 

the convent of Chelles]. I started Thursday at seven o'clock, 
with the Duchesse de Brancas, Mme. de Chateauthiers, and 
Mme. de Eathzamhausen ; we arrived at half-past ten. My 
grandson, the Due de Chartres, had already arrived ; my son 
came a few minutes later; then Mile, de Valois. Mme. 
d'Orldans had herself bled expressly to be unable to come. 
She and the abbess are not very good friends ; and besides, 
her extreme laziness would prevent her from getting up so 
early. 

We went to the church. The prie-clieu of the abbess was 
placed in the nun's choir ; it was violet velvet covered with 
gold Jleur-de-lis ; my prie-dieu was against the balustrade ; 
my son and his daughter were behind my chair, because the 
princes of the blood cannot kneel upon my carpet ; that is a 
right reserved to the grandsons of France. The whole of the 
king's band was in the loft. Cardinal de Noailles said mass. 
The altar is a very fine one of black and white marble with 
four thick columns of black marble ; there are four beautiful 
statues of sainted abbesses, one so like our own abbess you 
might think it was her portrait; it was, however, carved 
before my granddaughter was born, for she is only twenty- 
one years old. 

Twelve monks of her Order, robed in splendid chasubles, 
came to serve the mass. After the cardinal had read the 
epistle, the master of ceremonies entered the nun's choir and 
brought out the abbess ; she came with a very good air, fol- 
lowed by two abbesses, and half a dozen nuns of her own con- 
vent. She made a deep curtsey to the altar, then to me, and 
knelt down before the cardinal, who was seated in a great arm- 
chair before the altar. They brought in state the confession 
of faith, which she read, and after the cardinal had recited 
many prayers, he gave her a book contaiaing the rules of the 
convent. She then returned to her place; and after the 



150 COERESPONDENCE OF 

Credo and tlie offertory had been read, she came forward 
again, accompanied by an abbess and her nuns. Two great 
wax tapers and two loaves of bread, one gilt, the other 
silvered, were brought, with which she made her offering. 
After the cardinal had taken the communion, she again knelt 
before him and he gave her the crozier. Then he took her 
to her seat, not at her prie-dieu, but to her seat as abbess, a 
sort of throne surmounted by the dais of a princess of the 
blood with the fieurs-de-Us. As soon as she was seated 
the trumpets and the hautboys sounded, and the cardinal, 
followed by all his priests, placed himself near the altar on 
the left side, crozier in hand, and they chanted the Te Deum. 
Next, all the nuns of the convent came forward, two and 
two, to testify their submission to their new abbess, making 
her a deep obeisance. That reminded me of the honours 
they pay Athys when they make him high priest of Cybele 
in the opera, and I almost thought they were going to sing, 
" Before thee all bow down and tremble," etc. 

After the Te Deum, we entered the convent about half- 
past twelve and sat down to table, my son and I, my 
grandson, the Due de Chartres, the Princesse Victoire de 
Soissons, the young Demoiselle d'Auvergne, daughter of Duo 
d'Albret, and my three ladies. The abbess went to a table 
in her refectory with her sister. Mile, de Yalois, the two 
ladies who accompanied her, twelve abbesses, and all the 
nuns of the convent. It was droll to see so many black 
robes round a table. My son's people served a very fine 
repast ; and after dinner was over they let the people come 
in and pillage the dessert and confectionery. At a quarter 
to five my carriage came, and I returned to Saint-Cloud. 

You ask me if my Abb^ de Saint- Albin and his brother 
the Chevalier d'Orl^ans have the same mother; no. The 
chevalier is legitimatized, but the poor abb^ has not been 



MADAME. 151 

SO at all. He has tlie family look, and strongly resembles 
the late Monsieur; he is something like his father and is 
very like Mile, de Valois. He is some years older than the 
chevaher and is very grieved to see his younger brother 
so much above him. The chevalier, who for some time 
past has been the grand-prior of France in the Order of 
Malta, is the son of Mile, de Sery, formerly my maid-of- 
honour ; she now calls herself Mme. d'Argenton. The mother 
of the abb^ is an opera-dancer named Florence. My son 
has also a daughter by the left hand, whom he does not 
recognize ; he has married her to a Marquis de S^gur ; her 
mother was Desmares, one of the best actresses in the 
king's troupe. I love the Abb6 de Saint-Albin, and he 
deserves it. In the first place, he loves me sincerely, and 
in the next he conducts himself extremely well. He has 
intellect; he is reasonable, and there is no canting bigotry 
about him. He is not in as much favour with my son as 
he deserves, but he is the best young man in the world ; 
well brought-up, pious, and virtuous ; he is well educated 
but has no conceit. He is more like the late Monsieur 
than he is like his father ; but it is plain where he comes 
from ; my son cannot deny him ; and it is a great pity 
that he is not my son's legitimate child. 

The enormous wealth that is now in France is incon- 
ceivable. All the talk is in millions. I cannot understand 
it ; but I see plainly that the God Mammon reigns in Paris 
absolutely. The late king would gladly have employed 
M. Law in the finances ; but as he was not a Cathohc the 
king said he could not trust him. Nothing is now thought 
of but Law's bank ; a hundred tales are told of it. A lady 
gave her coachman an order to upset her in front of it, and 
when M. Law ran out, supposing from the cries that she 
had broken her neck or legs, she hastened to acknowl- 



152 CORRESPONDENCE OF MADAME. 

edge it was only a stratagem to get speech with him. 
It is certainly a droll thing to see how everybody runs 
after that man, jostling each other merely to see him or 
his son. 

M. le Due and his mother have made, they say, two 
hundred and fifty millions ; the Prince de Conti rather less, 
though people declare his gains amount to many millions ; 
the two cousins never budge from the rue Quincampoix. 
But the one who has gained the most money is d'Antin, 
who is terribly grasping. 

M. Law has abjured at Melun ; he has become a Catholic, 
and so have his children ; his wife is in despair. He is 
not avaricious ; he does much in charity, without letting it 
be known, and gives away great sums ; he helps large num- 
bers of poor people. 



V. 

Letters of 1720-1722. 

Paris, 1720. 

I HAVE often walked about at night in the gallery of the 
chateau of Fontainebleau, where they say the ghost of the 
late king Frangois I. appears ; but the good man never did 
me the honour to appear to me ; perhaps he does not think 
my prayers sufficiently efficacious to call him out of pur- 
gatory ; and in that he may be right enough. 

I was very gay in my youth; that is why they called 
me in German Rauschen petten Knedit. I remember the 
birth of the King of England [George I.] as if it had 
been yesterday. I was a very roguish, inquisitive child. 
They put a doll in a clump of rosemary and tried to make 
me beheve that it was the child that I was told my aunt 
was going to have ; but just at that moment I heard her 
scream, which did not agree with the baby in the rosemary 
bush. I pretended that I beheved them, but I shpped into 
my aunt's chamber as if I were playing hide and seek with 
young Bulau and Haxthausen, and hid behind a great 
screen they had placed beside the chimney next the door. 
Presently they brought the child to the fireplace to bathe it, 
and I ran out of my hiding-place. I ought to have been 
whipped, but in honour of the happy event I was only well 
scolded. 

The late king was so attached to the old customs of the 
royal family that he would not have allowed any of them to 
be changed for all the world. Mme. de Fiennes used to say 
that they clung so to old ways in the royal household that 



154 OOKRESPONDENCE OF 

the queen died with a frilled cap on her head such as they 
tie on children when they put them to bed. When the 
king wished a thing he never allowed any one to argue 
against it ; the thing he ordered must be done at once with- 
out reply. He was too used to " such is our good pleasure " 
to brook an observation. He was very severe in the etiquette 
he established about him. At Marly it was quite another 
thing ; there he allowed no ceremony. Neither ambassadors 
nor envoys were invited to go there, and he never gave 
audiences ; there was no etiquette, and everything went along 
pell-mell. On the promenades the king made the men wear 
their hats, and in the salon every one, down to the captains 
and sub-heutenants of the foot-guards, was allowed to sit 
down. That gave me such a disgust for the salon that I 
never chose to stay there. My son is hke all the rest of 
the family, he wants the things to which he has been ac- 
customed from his youth to go on forever. That is why he 
cannot part with the Abb^ Dubois, though he knows his 
knavery. That abb^ wanted to persuade me, myself, that 
the marriage of my son was very advantageous for him. I 
replied : " And Honour, monsieur, what can repair that ? " 
The Maintenon had made great promises to him and also to 
my son, but, thanks be to God, she did not keep her word 
to either of them. 

We have had few queens in France who have been per- 
fectly happy. Marie de' Medici died in exile; the mother 
of the king and Monsieur was miserable as long as her 
husband lived ; and our own queen, Marie-Th^rfese, used to 
say that since she became queen she had never had but one 
day of true contentment. She was certainly excessively 
silly, but the best and most virtuous woman on earth ; she 
had grandeur, and she knew well how to hold a Court. 
She believed all the king told her, good and bad. Her 



MADAME. 155 

accoutrements were ridiculous ; and her teeth were black 
and decayed, which came, they said, from eating choco- 
late, and she also ate a great deal of garhc. She was clumsy 
and short, and had a very white skin ; when she neither 
danced nor walked she looked taller than she was. She ate 
frequently, and was very long about it, because it was always 
in little scraps as if for a canary. She never forgot her 
native land, and many of her ways were Spanish. She 
loved cards beyond measure, and played at hassette, reversi, 
and ombre, sometimes at petit prime, but she never won, 
because she could never learn to play well. While she and 
the first dauphine lived there was never anything at Court 
but modesty and dignity. Those who were hcentious in 
secret affected propriety in pubhc ; but after the old guenipe 
began to govern and to introduce the bastards among the 
royal family everything went topsy-turvy. 

The queen had such a passion for the king that she tried 
to read in his eyes what would please him, and provided he 
looked at her kindly she was gay all day. She was glad 
when the king passed the night with her, for being a true 
Spanish woman she did not dislike that business ; whenever 
it happened she was so gay everybody knew of it. She 
liked to be joked about it, and would laugh, wink her eyes, 
and rub her httle hands. 

She died of an abscess which she had under the arm. 
Instead of drawing it outside, Fagon, who by great ill-luck 
was just then her doctor, bled her ; that made the abscess 
break within ; the whole of it fell upon the heart, and the 
emetic which he gave her choked her. The surgeon who 
bled her said to Fagon : " Monsieur, have you reflected ? This 
win be the death of my mistress." Fagon replied : " Do as I 
order you, Gervais." The surgeon wept and said to Fagon : 
" Do you compel me to be the one to kiU my mistress ? " At 



156 CORRESPONDENCE OF 

eleven o'clock he bled her ; at twelve Fagon gave her a great 
dose of emetic, and at three the queen departed for another 
world. We may indeed say that the happiness of Trance 
died with her. The king was much moved, but that old 
devil of a Fagon did it on purpose, in order to bring about 
the fortunes of the old guenipe. The king always showed 
consideration for his wife, and required his mistresses to 
respect her. He liked her because of her virtue and the 
sincere attachment she felt for him in spite of his infidelities. 
He was sincerely afflicted when she died. 

Pakis, 1720. 

One hears of nothing every day but bank-bUls. I think 
it very hard not to see gold. For forty-eight years I have 
always had fine gold pieces in my pocket, and now there is 
nothing to be seen but silver money, and that of little value. 

It is very certain that M. Law is now most horribly dis- 
liked. My son told me something in the carriage to-day 
which moved me so much that the tears came into my eyes. 
He said : " The populace said a thing that touched me to 
the heart ; I feel it deeply." I asked him what it was, and 
he replied that when the Comte de Horn was executed the 
people said : " If anything is done against the regent per- 
sonally he forgives it all; but if anything is done against 
us, he Hstens to no nonsense, but does justice." M. Law 
has no bad intentions ; he buys landed property and shows 
in that way that he means to stay in France. I do not 
beheve that he is sending money to England, HoUand, and 
Hamburg. 

We no longer know here what a Court is. No ladies come 
to see me, because I will not allow them to present themselves 
before me as they do before Mme. d'Orl^ans, with scarfs, 
and no bodies to their loose gowns. Those are things that 
I will not tolerate. I prefer to see no one at all than to 



MADAME. 157 

permit such familiarities. Mme. d'Ori^ans has spoilt these 
women ; she does not make herself respected and does not 
really know what rank is. Mmes. de Montesson and de 
Maintenon, who brought her up, did not know either. She 
is too proud to be willing to learn anything from me ; she 
thinks it would be beneath her, believing herself far superior 
to me when she sees how her room is filled and mine is 
empty. She would not imitate me, neither would I imi- 
tate her ; and so each of us keeps to her own way. 

Paeis, May, 1720. 

My son has been obliged to dismiss Law, who has hitherto 
been adored as a god. He is no longer controller-general, 
though still the director of the Bank and the Company of 
the Indies. They are obliged to give him a guard, for his 
life is not safe ; and it is pitiable to see how great his terror 
is. All sorts of satires are being written and spread about 
him. 

The jewellers refuse to work ; they value their merchan- 
dise at three times the price it can now bring on account 
of paper-money. I have often wished that hell-fire would 
bum up those bank-bills. They give my son more trouble 
than comfort. There is no describing all the results they 
have brought about. My son spares himself no trouble, 
but after working from morning till night he likes to amuse 
himself at supper with his little black crow [the regent's 
name for Mme. de Parabfere]. 

According to public clamour things are going horribly 
ill. I wish Law had been at the devil with his system, and 
had never set foot in France. The people do me too much 
honour in saying that if my advice had been listened to 
things would have gone better; I have no advice to give 
in matters concerning the government ; I meddle in nothing 



158 CORRESPONDENCE OE 

of the kind. But Frenchmen are so accustomed to see 
women with their fingers in everything that it seems to 
them impossible that I should be aloof from what happens. 
The good Parisians, with whom I am in favour, choose to 
attribute to me whatever is good ; I am very much obliged 
to those poor souls for the affection they feel to me, but I 
do not deserve it. The Parisians are the best people in the 
world, and if the parliament did not excite them they 
would never revolt. Poor people, they touch me very much, 
for while they shout against Law they do not attack my 
son, and when I passed in my carriage through the crowd 
they called out benedictions. That touched me so much 
I could not help crying. It is not surprising that they do 
not hke my son as much as they do me, for his enemies 
spare nothing to decry him and make him out a reprobate 
and a tyrant; whereas he is reaUy the best man in. the 
world — he is too good. I have never understood the 
system of M. Law, but I have firmly believed that no 
good would come of it. As I cannot disguise my thoughts 
I have always told my son plainly what I think of it. He 
assured me I was mistaken and he wanted to explain the 
matter to me ; but the more he tried to make me compre- 
hend it, the less I could understand a word of it. 

Law is hke a dead man, pale as linen ; he cannot get over 
that last fright of his. His good friend, the Due d'Antin, 
wants to get his place as director of the Bank. No one 
was ever more terrified than M. Law ; my son, who is not 
intimidated in spite of the threats addressed to him, laughs 
till he makes himself ill over Law's cowardice. Though 
everything at present is quiet here. Law does not dare go 
out; the market-women have placed spies round his house 
to know if he leaves it, which bodes no good to him, and 
I fear some new disturbance. But I never in my life knew 



MADAME. 159 

an Englisliman or a Scotcliman so cowardly as Law ; it is 
the possession of fortune that destroys courage ; men do not 
w illin gly give up wealth. 

Saint-Cloud, 1720. 

For the last week I have had a number of letters threat- 
ening to burn me at Saint-Cloud and my son in the Palais- 
EoyaL My son never tells me a word of such things ; he 
follows the example of his father, who used to say : " It 
is all well, provided Madame knows nothing about it." 

M. Law has gone to Brussels. Mme. de Prie [M. le Due's 
mistress] lent him her post-chaise ; in returning it he wrote 
to thank her, and sent her a ring worth a hundred thousand 
francs. M. le Due had given him relays and sent four of 
his servants with him. On taking leave of my son Law 
said to him : " Monseigneur, I have made great mistakes ; 
I made them because I was human ; but you will find 
neither malice nor dishonesty in my conduct." His wife 
would not leave Paris till all their debts were paidj he 
owed his provision man alone ten thousand francs. 

Saint-Clotjd, 1720. 

I am firmly persuaded that my days are counted, but I 
do not occupy my mind with that thought for a moment. 
I place all in the hands of Almighty God, and do not 
give myself any anxiety as to what may come to me ; 
for it would indeed be great folly in men and women to 
imagine that human beings are not equal before God, and 
that He would do special things for any of them. I have 
not, thanks to God, either such presumption or such pride. I 
know who I am and I do not deceive myself in that respect. 

I am irritated when I look back and think how ill they 
speak of the late king, and how little his Majesty has been 
regretted by those to whom he did most good. 



160 CORRESPONDENCE OF 

The daughter whom he loved best was the tall Princesse 
de Conti. She did not stand ill with the Maintenon ; who 
thought it an honour to herself to pay attentions to the 
princess, who had always led a regular life and renounced 
frivolity. She lived at last in great devotion, and when 
they told her that death was near she said : " Dying is the 
smallest event of my life." 

The king often complained that in his youth he had 
never been allowed to mingle with people and converse 
with them. But that is a matter of nature, for Monsieur, 
who was brought up with the king, was always ready to 
talk with anybody. The king said, laughing, that Mon- 
sieur's gabble had disgusted him with speech. "Good 
God ! " he used to say, " must I, in order to please people, 
talk such paltry and silly nonsense as my brother ? " It is 
true, however, that Monsieur was more beloved in Paris 
than the king on account of his affability. But when the 
king wanted to please any one he had the most seductive 
manners in the world, and he could win hearts much better 
than my husband. Monsieur (and it is the same with my 
son, was very amiable to everybody, but he did not dis- 
tinguish persons sufficiently ; he only showed regard to 
those who liked the Chevalier de Lorraine and his other 
favourites. 

After Monsieur's death the king sent to ask me where I 
wished to go, whether to a convent in Paris or to Montargis, 
or elsewhere. I answered that as I had the honour to 
belong to the royal family I could not wish for any other 
residence than that of the king, and I wished to go at once 
to Versailles. That pleased him ; he came to see me ; but 
he rather piqued me by saying that he had not thought I 
should wish to stay in the same place with himself. I 
replied I did not know who could have made to his Majesty 



MADAME. 161 

such false reports about me, and that I had more respect and 
attachment to him than those who had accused me falsely. 
Then the king made every one leave the room and we had 
a grand explanation, in which the king reproached me for 
hating Mme. de Maintenon. I said it was true that I hated 
her, but it was only out of attachment to him, and because of 
the evil offices she did me with him ; nevertheless, I added, 
if it would be agreeable to him that I should be reconciled 
with her I was ready to be so. The good lady had not fore- 
seen that, otherwise she would never have let the king come 
near me ; but he was acting in such good faith that he con- 
tinued friendly to me to his last hour. He sent for the old 
woman and said to her: "Madame is very willing to be 
reconciled with you ; " he made us embrace and the affair 
ended that way. Ever after he wished her to live on good 
terms with me; which she did outwardly, but she played 
me, underhand, all sorts of tricks. I should not have 
minded making a trip to Montargis, but I did not want it 
to look Hke a disgrace, — as if I had done something to de- 
serve being sent from Court. There was also danger that I 
should be left there to die of hunger ; I much preferred to be 
reconciled with the king. As for retiring to a convent, that 
was not at all my reckoning — though it was just what the 
old woman would have liked to make me do. The chateau 
de Montargis is my dower-house ; at Orleans there is no 
house ; Saint-Cloud is not an appanage, it is private property 
which Monsieur bought with his own money. Now my 
dower is nothing ; all that I have to live upon comes from 
the king and my son. At the beginning of my widowhood 
I was. left without a penny till they finally owed me three 
hundred thousand francs which was never paid till after the 
king's death. What would have become of me, therefore, 
had I chosen Montargis for my residence ? 

11 



162 COREESPONDENCE OF 

Saint-Cloud, 1720. 

The king forgot La Yallifere as completely as if he had 
never seen her or known her in his life. She had as many 
virtues as the Montespan had vices. The sole weakness that 
she had for the king was very excusable. The king was 
young, gallant, and handsome ; she herself very young ; all 
the world led her and drove her to her fault. At bottom 
she was modest and virtuous, with a most kind heart. I 
told her sometimes that she had transposed her love and 
carried to God just that which she had for the king. They 
did her the utmost injustice in accusing her of loving any 
one but the king — but lies cost the Montespan nothing. 
It was at her instigation that the king so ill-treated La 
Vallifere. The poor creature's heart was pierced ; but she 
fancied she was offering the greatest sacrifice to God in 
immolating to him the source of her sin on the very spot 
where the sin was committed. Therefore, she stayed on, as 
penance, with the Montespan, The latter, who had more 
cleverness, laughed at her publicly, treated her ill, and made 
the king do likewise. Yet she bore it with patience. 

Her glance had a charm that can never be described ; she 
had a graceful figure, but her teeth were vile; her eyes 
seemed to me much more beautiful than those of Mme. de 
Montespan; her whole bearing was modesty itself. She 
limped slightly, but it was not unbecoming. When the 
king made her a duchess and legitimatized her children she 
was in despair, for she thought till then that no one knew 
she had them. When I came to France she had not yet 
retired to a convent ; in fact, she remained two years longer 
at Court. We became intimately acquainted at the time 
she took the veil. I was greatly touched to see that charm- 
ing creature persist in her resolution, and when they put 
her beneath the pall I wept so bitterly I could not see the 



MADAME. 163 

rest. Wlien the ceremony was over she came to me to com- 
fort me, and told me that I ought to congratulate her and 
not pity her because she was beginning, from that instant, to 
be happy ; she said she should never in her life forget the 
favour and friendship I had shown to her, which she 
had never deserved to receive from me. Shortly after, I 
went to see her again ; I was curious to know why she had 
remained so long as a servant to the Montespan. God, she 
told me, had touched her heart, and had given her to know 
her sin ; she then thought that she ought to do penance and 
suffer in the way most painful to her, — that of sharing the 
king's heart with another, and seeing him despise her. Dur- 
ing the three years that the king's love was ceasing she had 
suffered Kke a lost soul, and had offered to God her sorrow 
in expiation of her past sin, because, having sinned pubhcly, 
she thought her repentance should be pubhc also. They had 
taken her, she said, for a silly fool who noticed nothing, and 
it was precisely then that she suffered most, until God put 
into her mind to leave all and serve Him only, which she 
had now done, although on account of her vices she was not 
worthy to live among the pure and pious souls of the other 
CarmeHtes. I saw that what she said came from the depths 
of her spirit. 

You tell me that you are never fatigued listening to your 
two preachers. I must confess to my shame that I know 
nothing more wearisome than a sermon ; opium could not 
make me sleep more soundly. I cannot go to church in the 
afternoon, for I fall asleep at once ; and as I am not in a pew 
here, but facing the pulpit in an armchair where everybody 
sees me, it would be a real scandal. Besides, since I have 
grown old, I snore very loud, which would make people 
laugh, and the preacher himself might be disconcerted. 

I have three fine Bibles : that of Merian, which my aunt, 



164 COKEESPONDENCE OF 

the Abbess of Maubuisson, bequeathed to me ; an edition of 
Luneburg which is very fine, and another sent to me last 
year by the Princess of Oldenbourg. The latter is like me, 
short and thick, and neither the print nor the engravings are 
as good as in the two others. When I came to France every 
one was forbidden to read the Bible ; for the last few years 
it has been permitted, but lately the Constitution (Unigeni- 
tus), about which there has been so much talk, has again 
forbidden it. It is true no one minds the injunction. As 
for me, I laugh and say I am perfectly willing to obey the 
Constitution, and will bind myself to read no French Bible ; 
in fact, I never open any but my German ones. The Bible 
is good and wholesome nourishment ; and what is more, very 
agreeable. But the German Catholics never have recourse 
to it, they are so inclined to superstition. 

When a person has lived like M. Leibnitz I cannot believe 
that he needs to have priests about him ; they can teach him 
nothing, for he knows more than they. Habit does not form 
a true fear of God, and the communion, considered as the 
result of habit, has no moral value if the heart is devoid of 
praiseworthy feelings. I do not doubt M. Leibnitz's salva- 
tion, and I think he is very fortunate not to have suffered 
longer. 

I know a person who has been the very intimate friend of 
a learned abb^. That abbd knew most particularly well the 
celebrated Descartes at the time when he was living in 
Amsterdam, before he went to Sweden to visit Queen Chris- 
tina. The abbd often told my friend that Descartes used to 
laugh at his own system and say : " I have cut them out a 
fine piece of work ; we '11 see who will be fool enough to 
take hold of it " [or " be taken in by it." J& leur ai tailU de 
la hesogne ; nous verrons qui sera assez sot pour y donner]. 

I have seen that other philosopher, M. de La Mothe 



MADAME. 165 

Vayer ; witli all his talent he scurried along like a crazy 
man. He always wore furred boots and a cap lined with 
fur, which he never took off, very broad neckbands, and a 
velvet coat. 

As long as I was at Heidelberg I never read a novel ; his 
Highness, my father, would not let me do so; but since I 
have been here I have compensated myself finely. There 
are none that I have not read : " Astr^e," " Cl^opatre," " Ald- 
fie," " Cassandre," " Policsandre " [Madame's own spelling]. 
Besides which I have read lesser ones : " Tarcis et C^he," 
" Lissandre et Calixte," " Caloandro," " Endimiro," " Amadis " 
(but as to the last I only got as far as the seventeenth vol- 
ume, and there are twenty-four); also the "Eoman des 
Eomans," " Th^agfene and Charicl^e," of which there are 
pictures at Fontainebleau in the king's cabinet. 

The monks of Saiut-Mihiel have the original of the " Me- 
moirs of Cardinal de Eetz," and they have printed and sold 
them at Nancy. Many things are lacking in that edition. 
But Mme. de Caumartin, who possesses the memoirs in man- 
uscript, where not a word is missing, is obstinate in not 
letting them be seen, so that the work is incomplete. 

Saint-Cloud, 1720. 
I think that Madame [her predecessor] was more wronged 
than wronging ; she had to do with very wicked people, 
about whom I could tell many things if I chose. Madame 
was very young, beautiful, agreeable, and full of grace, and 
surrounded by the greatest coquettes in the world, the mis- 
tresses of Madame's enemies, who sought only to get her into 
trouble and make Monsieur quarrel with her. They say 
here that she was not handsome ; but she had so much grace 
that everything became her. She was not capable of for- 
giving, and was determined to drive away the Chevaher de 



166 COREESPONDENCE OF 

Lorraine. In that she succeeded, but it cost her her life. 
He sent the poison from Italy by a Provengal gentleman 
named Morel, and to reward the latter he was made chief 
maitre-d'hotel. He robbed and pillaged me and was made to 
sell his office, for which he got a high price. This Morel had 
the cleverness of a devil, but knew neither law nor gospel. 
He owned to me himself that he believed in nothing. When 
he was dying he would not hear of God, and said of himself, 
" Let this carcass alone ; it is good for nothing more." 

It is very true that Madame was poisoned, but without 
Monsieur's knowledge. When those scoundrels held counsel 
with one another to determine how they should poison poor 
Madame, they discussed whether or not they should warn 
Monsieur. The Chevalier de Lorraine said, " No, do not let 
us tell him, for he cannot hold his tongue. If he does not 
speak of it the first year, he wiU get us hanged ten years 
later." And it is known that one of the wretches added, 
" Be careful not to let Monsieur know of it ; he would tell 
it to the king, and that would hang us." They made 
Monsieur believe that the Dutch had given Madame a slow 
poison in chocolate : but here is the truth : — 

D'Effiat did not poison the chicory water, but he poisoned 
Madame's cup ; and that was weU imagined, because no one 
drinks from our cups but ourselves. The cup was not 
brought out as soon as asked for ; they said it was mislaid. 
A valet de chamhre whom I had, and who had been in the 
service of the late Madame (he is dead now), related to me 
that in the morning, while Monsieur and Madame were at 
mass, d'Effiat went to the buffet, found the cup, and rubbed 
it with some paper. The valet de chamhre said to him: 
" Monsieur, what are you doing in our closet, and why are 
you touching Madame's cup ? " He answered : " I am dying 
of thirst, and as the cup was dirty I cleaned it with paper." 



MADAME. 167 

That evening Madame asked for lier chicory water, and 
as soon as she drank it she cried out that she was poisoned. 
Those who were there had drunk of the same water, but not 
from her cup, and they were not taken ill. They put her to 
bed, and she grew worse and worse, and died two hours after 
midnight in frightful suffering. 

Monsieur never troubled his wife about her gallantries 
with the king his brother ; he himself related to me the 
whole of Madame's life, and he never would have passed 
that matter over in silence had he believed it. I think that 
as to this circumstance the world has been unjust to Madame. 

For many years a rumour has spread about Saint-Cloud 
that the ghost of the late Madame appeared about a fountain 
where she used to sit in very warm weather, because the 
place was cool. One evening a lacquey of the Mar^chale de 
CMrembault, going to draw water at the well, saw some- 
thing white without a face ; the phantom, which was sitting 
down, rose to double its height. The poor lacquey, seized 
with fright, ran away ; on reaching the house he insisted 
that he had seen Madame, fell ill and died. The officer 
who was then captain of the chateau, imagining that there 
must be something under it all, went to the fountain him- 
self, saw the ghost, and threatened to give it a hundred 
blows with his stick if it did not own who it was. Where- 
upon the ghost said : " Oh ! Monsieur de Last^ra, don't hurt 
me, T am only poor Philippinette." She was an old woman 
in the village, about seventy-seven years old, with only one 
tooth in her mouth, weak eyes rimmed with red, a huge 
mouth, a thick nose, — in short, hideous. They wanted to 
put her in prison, but I interceded for her. When she came 
to thank me for that I said to her : "What mania possessed 
you to play the ghost instead of staying in your bed?" 
She answered, laughing : " I don't regret what I have done ; 



168 CORRESPONDENCE OF 

at my age one sleeps little, and one must have something 
or other to keep one's spirits up. AU I ever did in my 
youth did not give me as much enjoyment as playing the 
ghost. Those who were not afraid of my white sheet were 
afraid of my face. The cowards made such faces I nearly 
died of laughing. That pleasure at night paid me for the 
pain of carrying faggots by day." 

Saint-Cloud, 1720. 

I feel a bitter grief whenever I think of all M. Louvois 
burned in the Palatinate, and I beheve he is burning terribly 
in the other world, for he died so suddenly he had no time 
to repent. He was poisoned by his doctor, who was after- 
wards poisoned himself, but confessed his crime before he 
died, with all details and circumstances, so that there could 
be no doubt about it. As he was a friend of the old woman, 
it was given out that he died in a spasm of hot fever. Thus 
we see, if we examine things well, the justice of God; 
people are usually punished in this world by their own 
sins. 

The longer I live the more reason I have to regret my 
aunt, the Electress, and to respect her memory. You are 
very right in saying that in many centuries we shall not see 
her like again. Unhappily, I lack a great deal of having 
her judgment and her energy. What may be praised in 
me is frankness and good-will ; and, thank God, I am not 
licentious, as is now the fashion among the princely people 
of the royal house of France. 

Ehine wine was never put into the great tun at Heidelberg ; 
only Neckar wine. The present Elector is said not to hate 
it. As for me, Ehine wine is what I prefer. I cannot en- 
dure Burgundy ; the taste seems to me disagreeable, and 
besides, it gives me a stomach-ache. I am delighted that 
Heidelberg is being rebuilt, and that they are workiag on 




:^ 



i^^<n-€y. 



MADAME. 169 

the chateau ; but what vexes me is that they are putting up 
a Jesuit convent instead of the commissariat. Jesuits are 
out of place at Heidelberg, and so are the Franciscans. I 
am told they live now near .to the upper gate ; my God ! 
how often I have eaten cherries on that mountain, with a 
good bit of bread, at five in the morning ! I was gayer then 
than I am now. 

You know how the pope had Lord Peterborough arrested 
at Bologna, nobody knows why. He went about disguised 
as a woman ; with great talents he behaves like a madman. 
He says he will not come out of prison till he obtains repara- 
tion for the affront put upon him. For my part, if I were 
in prison and they gave me leave to get out, I should depart 
as fast as possible and say what I had to say later, — first of 
all, I should recover my liberty. This lord is the queerest 
eccentric. I think he would rather die than deprive himself 
of saying what comes into his head and of doing malicious 
things to the persons he dislikes. 

Saint-Cloud, 1720. 

For forty years no October has ever passed without my son 
being ill, one way or another, about the 22nd of the month. 
Though he is regent he never appears before me or leaves 
me without kissing my hand before I embrace him. He 
never takes a chair in my presence ; but in other respects he 
stands on no ceremony and gabbles as he likes ; we laugh 
and joke together like cronies. Between him and his mis- 
tresses everything goes on to beat of drum without the least 
gallantry ; it reminds me of those old patriarchs who had so 
many women. The Due de Saint-Simon was impatient one 
day with some of my son's easy-going ways and said to him, 
angrily : " Oh ! you are so dehonnaire ! since the days of 
Louis le Debonnaire there has never been any one so easy- 
going as you." My son nearly died of laughter. 



170 COKRESPONDENCE OF 

My son believes in predestination as much as if he had 
belonged, like me, for nineteen years to the Eef ormed religion. 
What seems to me strange is that he does not hate his 
brother-in-law, the lamester, who would like to see him dead. 
I think there never was his like ; there is no gall in him ; I 
never knew him to hate any one. 

Mme. la Duchesse is very amusing and says the most 
diverting things. She is fond of good eating ; and that was 
just what suited the dauphin [Monseigneur] ; he went to 
her every mornuig for a good breakfast, and at night for a 
collation. Her daughters had the same tastes, so that Mon- 
seigneur spent the whole day in a society that amused him. 
At first he was attached to his daughter-in-law [the Du- 
chesse de Bourgogne], but after she quarrelled with Mme. la 
Duchesse he completely changed; and what irritated him 
still more was that the Duchesse de Bourgogne brought 
about the marriage of his son, the Due de Berry, a marriage 
he did not like. He was not wrong in that, and they did 
not treat him well in the matter, I must allow, though the 
marriage was greatly to our advantage. 

The Queen of Spain [Marie-Louise de Savoie] remained 
much longer with her mother than our dauphine, her sister ; 
consequently, she was very much better educated. The 
Maintenon knew nothing about education ; to win the young 
dauphine's affection and keep it for herself alone, she let her 
do just what she liked. The young girl had been brought 
up by her virtuous mother, and was very winning and droll; 
merriness became her ; she was not ugly when she had a fine 
colour. I could not tell you what f oohsh heads were allowed 
to surround the young princess ; for example, the Mar^chale 
d'Estrdes. The Maintenon was well paid for giving her 
such senseless animals, for the result was that she ceased 
to care for her society. But the Maintenon, determined to 



MADAME. 171 

know the cause, tormented the princess to admit it. Finally 
the dauphine told her that the Mar^chale d'Estr^es was daily 
saying to her, " Why do you stay with the old woman, and 
not with those who can amuse you much better than that 
old carcass ? " — saying also other evil things of her. The 
Maintenon told me this herself after the dauphine's death, 
to prove it was solely the fault of that hussy that the dau- 
phine did not live on good terms with me. That might be 
half true, but it is none the less certain that the old vilaine 
had set her against me. Nearly all the giddy young women 
who surrounded the dauphine were relations or allies of the 
old woman ; it was by her orders that they tried to amuse 
and divert the princess, — in order that she might have no 
other society than what she gave her, and be bored elsewhere. 
But when the dauphine reached years of discretion she cor- 
rected herself in a wonderful manner, and repented heartily 
of her childish follies ; which showed she had judgment. 
What corrected her was the marriage of Mme. de Berry. 
She saw that that young woman made others dishke her, 
and that all went wrong ; she then desired to adopt another 
behaviour than that of her cousin, and to make herself re- 
spected. Accordingly she changed her conduct completely ; 
retired within herself, and became as sensible as she had 
previously been too little so. She had much judgment ; she 
knew her faults perfectly well, and she knew also how to 
correct them in a wonderful way. She changed her way of 
life, and in one month she brought back to her side all those 
whom she had caused to dislike her. Thus she continued 
until her death. She said frankly how much she regretted 
to have been so giddy; but excused herself on the ground 
of her extreme youth, and she blamed the young women 
who had set her such a bad example and given her such 
bad advice. She gave them public marks of her displeasure ; 



172 CORRESPONDENCE OE 

and managed matters so that tlie king did not take them 
any longer to Marly. In this way she brought every one 
back to her. 

She was delicate in health and even sickly. But Doctor 
Chirac assured us until the last that she would recover. 
And it is true that if they had not let her get up whilst she 
had the measles, and had not bled her in the foot, she would 
now be living. Immediately after the bleeding, from being 
red as fire she became pale as death and felt extremely ill. 
When they took her out of her bed I cried out that they 
ought to let the sweating subside before they bled her. 
Chirac and Fagon were obstinate and only scoffed at me. 
The old guenipe came up to me and said : " Do you think 
yourself cleverer than all the doctors who are here ? " I 
replied, " No, madame, but it does not take much cleverness 
to know that we ought to foUow nature, and if nature in- 
clines to sweating it would be better to follow that indication 
than to take a sick person up in a perspiration to bleed her." 
She shrugged her shoulders and smiled ironically. I went 
to the other side of the room and never said another word. 

The Maiatenon always retained the fire of her eyes ; but 

she pinched her lips and contracted her nostrils, which gave 

her the very disagreeable air she put on when she saw any 

one who displeased her, my Excellency for instance ; at such 

times she would raise the corners of her mouth and drop 

her under lip. I have often heard her say in a jesting way, 

" I have been too far from, and too near grandeur to know 

what it is." 

Paris, February 1, 1721. 

I grow weaker and can hardly hold my pen, but there is 
nothing to be done. I place myself in the hands of God 
and refer all things to His wiU. I think I shall end by 
drying up, like that tortoise I kept at Heidelberg in my bed- 



MADAME. 173 

room. But as long as I live be sure, dear Louise, that my 
heart will cherish you. 

There is not in all the world a better air than that of 
Heidelberg, especially that about the chateau near my bed- 
room; nothing finer can be found. No one understands 
better than I, dear Louise, what you must have felt at 
Heidelberg ; I cannot think of it without deep emotion ; 
but I must not speak of it to-night ; it makes me too sad 
and hinders me from sleeping. 

My son lives very well with me; he shows me great 
affection and will be miserable at losiug me. His visits do 
me more good than quinine — they rejoice my heart and 
do not give me pains in my stomach. He always has 
something droll to tell me which makes me laugh ; he has 
wit and expresses himself charmingly. I should be a most 
unnatural mother if I did not love him from the bottom of 
my heart ; if you knew him you would see that he has no 
ambition and no malignity. Ah ! my God, he is only too 
kind ; he pardons all that is done against him and laughs 
about it. If he would only show his teeth to his wicked rela- 
tions they would learn to fear him and cease their horrible 
machmations. You cannot imagine the wickedness and the 
ambition of the third prince of the blood. As long as M. 
le Due hoped to get money out of my son he overwhelmed 
him with protestations of attachment and devotion; now 
that there is nothing more to get from him he has turned 
completely against him and has joined my son's inhuman 
enemy, the Prince de Conti. 

Paris, 1720. 

I am coming to the close of my seventieth year, and I 
feel that if I have another shock like that which struck me 
so severely last year I shall soon know how things go on in 
the other world. My constitution continues sound, as may 



174 COERESPONDENCE OF 

be seen by tbe fact that I have resisted all attacks, but, as 
the French proverb says, " the pitcher may go once too often 
to the well;" and that is what will happen to me in the 
end. But these thoughts do not trouble me, for we know 
that we come into this world only to die. I do not think 
that extreme old age is a pleasant thing ; there is too much 
to suffer ; and with regard to physical suffering I am a great 
coward. 

Saint Francois de Sales, who founded the Order of the 
Filles de Sainte-Marie, was in his youth a friend of the 
Mar^chal de Villeroy, father of the present marshal. 
The marshal never could bring himself to give him his 
name as a saint, and when they spoke to him of his friend 
he used to say : " I was delighted when I heard that M. de 
Sales was a saint; he liked smutty stories and cheated at 
cards ; the best man in the world in other respects, but a fool." 

I follow the fashions at a distance, and some of them I 
put aside entirely, such as paniers, which I do not wear, and 
loose gowns, which I cannot abide and will not permit in 
my presence, I think them indecent; women look as if 
they had just got out of their beds. There is no rule here 
now about the fashions. Tailors, dressmakers, and hair- 
dressers invent what they please. I have never followed to 
excess the fashion of tall head-dresses. 

I do not know what you mean about your neighbours the 
storks never failing to come back every year. We have 
none in France, and I wish you would tell me if you see 
them in England; for it is said they never stay in any 
kingdom. 

Paeis, 1721. 

All that we read in the Bible about the excesses which 
were punished by the Deluge, and about the lewdness of 
Sodom and Gomorrah does not approach the life now led in 



MADAME. 175 

Paris. Out of nine young men of rank wlio dined the other 
day with my grandson, the Due de Chartres, seven had the 
French disease. Is it not horrible? The majority of the 
people here are occupied solely with their pleasures and 
debauchery ; outside of that they know nothing and care 
for nothing; they do not believe in a future life; they 
imagine that they will end in death. 

The Abb^ Dubois sends me word he has nothing now to 
do with the post, which concerns exclusively M. de Torcy; 
they are rotten eggs and rancid butter, the pair of them ; 
one is no better than the other, and both would be more in 
their place on a gibbet than at Court, for they are not worth 
the devil and are more treacherous than gallows-wood, as 
Lenore would say. If they have the curiosity to read this 
letter they will see the eulogy I make upon them, and they 
wiU recognize the truth of our German proverb, " Listeners 
never hear any good of themselves." 

I know very well that we pay the postage on letters we 
receive, but as to paying for those we put in the post, that is 
something new; I never heard of it before in all my Hfe. 

Paris, 1721. 

The Archbishop of Cambrai [Dubois] is coming here to- 
day to tell me of his elevation to the cardinalate ; so 
Alberoni has got a comrade. He is one I cannot love ; he 
poisoned my whole life ; at the same time I would not do 
him any harm. May God forgive him, but he may suffer 
for it in this world. 

"We are all in full dress for the ceremony of his reception 
at three o'clock ; I shall be obliged to bow to him, and make 
him sit down, and talk to him a few moments. It will 
not be without pain ; but pain and vexation are one's daily 
bread — but here comes the cardinal, and I must pause. 



176 COKRESPONDENCE OF 

The cardinal has begged me to forget the past; he has 
made me the finest harangue that was ever listened to. 
He has great capacities, — that is undeniable; and if he 
were only as honest as he is capable, he would leave nothiag 
to be desired. 

Saint-Cloud, October, 1721. 
I can only write you a few words and in all haste this 
morning, my dear Louise, for I am going to Paris to com- 
pliment my son and his wife on the good news they have 
just received and transmitted to me instantly. The King 
of Spain has asked their daughter in marriage for his son 
the Prince of the Asturias. Mile, de Montpensier has no 
name as yet, but before she goes to Spain the ceremony will 
be performed ; the king and I are to name' her ; she will 
then make her first communion and be confirmed ; that is 
what may be called receiving the three sacraments together. 

Paeis, 1721. 
They leave me no peace ; visitors at every moment ; I 
am obhged to get up and make conversation. First came 
the Comte de Clermont, third brother of M. le Due ; after 
him the Duchesse de Ventadour and her sister the Duchesse 
de La Fert^ ; then the Due de Chartres, his three sisters 
and their governess, my two ladies, and Mme. de Sdgur, 
my son's daughter by the left side and not legitimatized. 
That made twelve at table. Then came the Mardchale de 
Cl^rembault and Cardinal de Gfesvres; I had to rise to 
receive him and talk to him. But all that is not compar- 
able to what awaited me after dinner from two o'clock to 
half-past six. I found in my salon Mme. la Princesse, with 
our Duchess of Hanover, the tall Princesse de Conti, and 
Mile, de Clermont, with all their ladies ; and when they 
went away the little Princesse de Conti came with her 



MADAME. 177 

daughter ; then the Duchesse du Maine, Mme. la Duchesse 
and her daughter, and all their ladies. Also a great many- 
other ladies not of the royal family, such as the Princesse 
d'Espinoy, the Duchesse de Valentinois, the Princesse de 
Montauban, and I don't know who else, innumerable duch- 
esses, the Mar^chales de Noailles and de Boufflers, the 
Duchesses de Lesdiguiferes, de Nevers, d'Humiferes, de Gram- 
mont, de Koquelaire, de Villars; the Duchesse d'Orldans 
came too ; as for the ladies who did not sit, they were 
innumerable, and I am quite sure I have forgotten some of 
the tab'ouret ones. It was so hot in my room that I should 
have fainted if I had not gone, now and then, into my 
dressing-room to get a breath of air. But what made me 
suffer most was my knees ; by dint of rising and bowing 
I really thought I should faint away. 

I have an abb^ (whom I often call a scamp) sitting by 
me now ; he is dinning his chatter into my ears so that I 
really do not know what I write ; from that, you will know 
very well that I mean my Abb^ de Saint Albin, who will 
soon be Bishop of Laon, duke and peer of France. That will 
give me great pleasure, because I have felt more attachment 
for that poor boy from his earhest childhood than for all his 
brothers and sisters ; I feel that of all my son's children, 
legitimate and illegitimate, he is the one that I love best. 

My son cannot and will not believe that the Due du 
Maine is the king's son. That man has always been treach- 
erous ; he did ill-turns to everybody ; he was always hated 
as an arch-spy and informer. His wife, the little frog, is 
much more violent than he ; for he is cowardly, and fear 
restrains him ; but the wife mingles the heroic with her 
capers. I think myself that the Comte de Toulouse is really 
the king's son; but I have always believed that the Due 
du Maine was the son of Terme, who was a treacherous 

12 



178 COREESPONDENCE OF 

scoundrel and tlie worst spy at Court. The old guenipe 
had persuaded the king that the Due du Maine was all 
virtue and piety ; and when he reported harm of any 
one, she said it was for that person's good, so that the 
king might correct him. Thus the king considered every- 
thing that came from du Maine admirable; he regarded 
him as a saint. To this that confessor, Pfere TeUier, con- 
tributed much in order to please the old woman. The late 
chancellor Voysin also talked about the duke to the king 
by order of the Maintenon. 

Paris, 1721. 
It cannot be said that Mile, de Montpensier is ugly ; 
she has pretty eyes, a delicate white skin, a well-formed 
nose, though rather too shm, and a very small mouth; 
and yet with all that she is the most disagreeable person 
I ever saw in my life ; in all her actions, speaking, eating, 
drinking, she is intolerable ; she did not shed a tear in 
leaving us; in fact, she scarcely said farewell.^ I have 
seen successively two of my relatives and now my grand- 
daughter become Queens of Spain. The one I loved best 
was my step-daughter [wife of Charles II.] ; for her I had 
a most sincere affection as if she were my sister ; she could 
not have been my daughter because I was only nine years 
older than she. I was stiU very childish when I came to 
France, and we used to play together with Charles-Louis 
and the little Prince d'Eisenach, and make such a racket 
you could not have heard a thunderbolt fall. 

1 Louise-Elisabeth, born 1709, married January 20, 1722, to Louis, 
Prince of the Asturias ; see Saint-Simon's account of the marriage, and 
her behaviour. Philippe V. abdicated in favour of Louis in 1724, but the 
latter dying within six months, Philippe resumed the crown. The young 
queen then returned to France, where she lived unnoticed and died in 
1742. In Spain she had shown " the sulky, sullen temper of a dull and 
silly child," and continued to do so after her return to Paris. — Tr. 



MADAME. 179 

Paeis, March, 1722. 

I do not believe that in the whole world you could find a 

more amiable and sweeter child than our pretty infanta.^ 

She makes reflections that are worthy of a woman of thirty ; 

for instance : " They say that those who die at my age are 

saved and go straight to paradise; I should therefore be 

very glad if the good God would take me." I fear she has 

too much mind, and will not live. She has the prettiest 

ways in the world ; she has taken a great liking to me, and 

runs to me in her antechamber with her arms wide open, 

and kisses me with affection. I am not on bad terms with 

the little king. 

May, 1722. 

I thank you heartily for praying for me ; I have nothing 
now to ask for my own happiness in this world ; provided 
God protects my children, I am content ; but I have great 
need of intercession for my happiness in the other life, and 
also for that of my son. May God convert him ; that is the 
only blessing that I ask of Him. I think there is not in all 
Paris, whether among the priests or the world's people, one 
hundred persons who have the true Christian faith and 
believe in our Saviour ; and the thought makes me shudder. 

September 29, 1722. 
I do what my doctor orders, so as not to be tormented, 
and I await from the hand of God Almighty whatsoever he 
decides on my account ; I am entirely resigned to his will. 

Octobers, 1722. 
Since I last wrote to you no change has occurred in 
respect to me ; matters will go as God wills. I am prepar- 

1 Daughter of Philippe Y., brought to France to be educated and 
married to Louis XV. ; see " Saint-Simon." The marriage never took place, 
and the infanta was sent back to Spain, April 5, 1725, when the treaty of 
alliance between Spain and Austria was signed, and France, England, and 
Prussia formed a counter treaty. — Te, 



180 COKRESPONDENCE OF 

ing for my journey to Eeims [to the coronation of Louis 
XV.]; time will show the result. 

Paris, November 5, 1722. 

I returned here the day before yesterday ; but in a sad 
state. 

During my journey I received five of your good letters, 
dear Louise, and I thank you most sincerely, for they gave 
me great pleasure. I could not answer them, as much on 
account of my weakness as from the perpetual bustle in 
which I was. My time was all taken up by the ceremonies, 
by my children whom I had constantly about me, and by a 
crowd of distinguished persons, princes, dukes, cardinals, 
archbishops, and bishops who came to see me. I think that 
in the whole world nothing more magnificent could be 
imagined than the coronation of the king ; if God allows 
me a Httle health I will write you a description of it. My 
daughter was much moved at seeing me. She scarcely 
believed in my illness, and fancied it was only a little over- 
fatigue. But when she saw me at Eeims she was so shocked 
that the tears came into her eyes, and that pained me very 
much. 

I wish I could talk with you longer, but I feel too weak. 

November 12, 1722. 
I hope to send you to-morrow a grand account of the 
coronation. I know nothing new, except that I have been 
told one thing which causes me the greatest joy. My son 
has broken from his mistresses, thinking that he ought not 
to continue a style of life which would be a bad example 
to the king and draw down upon him just condemnation. 
May God maintain him in these good intentions and order 
all things for his happiness ; that is the only thing about 



MADAME. 181 

wHch I am solicitous ; I have no anxiety as to wliat God 
may do with me. 

November 21, 1722. 

I grow worse hour by hour, and I suffer day and night ; 
nothing that they do for me relieves me. I have great need 
that God should inspire me with patience; He would do 
me a great mercy if He delivered me from my sufferiags ; 
therefore do not be distressed if you lose me ; it will be a 
great blessing for me. 

In addition to my own Ulness I have another thing that 
goes to my heart ; my poor old Mar^chale de Cl^rembault is 
very ill. 

November 29, 1722. 

You will receive to-day but a very short letter; I am 
worse than I have ever been, and have not closed my eyes 
all night. Yesterday morning we lost our poor mar^chale ; 
she had no attack, but hfe appeared to abandon her. It 
gives me sincere pain ; she was a lady of great capacity and 
much merit ; she was highly educated, though she did not 
make it apparent. They tell me she has chosen as her heir 
the son of her eldest brother. It is not surprising that a 
person eighty-eight years of age should go ; but, even so, it is 
painful to lose a friend with whom one has passed fifty- 
one years of one's life. But I must stop, my dear Louise ; 
I suffer too much to say more to-day. If you could see the 
state in which I am you would understand how much I 
wish that it might end. 



[Madame died nine days after this letter was written.] 



VI. 

LETTEES OF THE DUCHESSE DE BOUEGOGNE. 

PRECEDED BY REMARKS OF 

C.-A. SAINTE-BEUVE. 

MARiE-ADi^LAiDE DE Savoie, Duchesse de Bourgogne, 
who was married to the grandson of Louis XIV. and was 
the mother of Louis XV., has left a very gracious memory 
behind her. She flitted through the world like one of those 
bright, rapid apparitions which the imagination of contem- 
poraries delights to embellish. Born in 1685, daughter of 
the Due de Savoie, who transmitted to her his ability and 
possibly his craft, granddaughter by her mother of that 
amiable Henrietta of England (first wife of Monsieur, Louis 
XIV.'s brother), whose death Bossuet immortalized, and 
whose charm she resuscitated, Marie-Adelaide came to 
France when eleven years old to marry the Due de Bour- 
gogne, who was then thirteen. The marriage took place the 
following year, but in form only ; and for several years the 
education of the young princess was the occupation of her 
Hfe. Mme. de Maintenon applied herself to that purpose 
with all the care and consistency of which she was so capable. 
It was not her fault if the Duchesse de Bourgogne did not 
become the most exemplary of the pupils of Saint- Cyr. The 
vivacity and lively spirits of the princess disconcerted at 
times the well-laid schemes of prudence, and she constantly 
broke from the frame in which it was designed to hold her. 
Nevertheless, she profited through it all; serious thoughts 




^J/tA 



■.</e^\yc 



^yC^ic^^oo'-n^ 



CORRESPONDENCE OE THE DUCHESSE DE BOURGOGNE. 183 

slipped in among her pleasures. It was for her that sacred 
plays, some by Duch6, but especially Eacine's "Athalie," 
were acted ia Mme. de Maintenon's apartment. In " Athalie," 
the Duchesse de Bourgogne played a part. 

The princess had already received in Savoie a certain 
education, especially in that so necessary to princes and 
which nature itself gives to women, namely, the desire and 
the effort to please. She arrived at Montargis on Sunday, 
November 4, 1696. Louis XIV. had left Fontainebleau after 
dinner and gone to Montargis with his son [Monseigneur], 
his brother [Monsieur, the little Adelaide's grandfather], and 
all the principal seigneurs of his Court, in order to receive 
her. Before going to bed that night the king concludes an 
important letter to Mme. de Maintenon in which he gives 
her an account in the fullest detail of the person and slight- 
est action of the little princess ; it was the affair of State of 
the moment. The original of this letter of Louis XIV. ex- 
ists in the library of the Louvre, and it is here given textu- 
ally. Let us now read Louis XIV. undisguised, or rather, let 
us listen to the great monarch conversing and relating ; lan- 
guage excellent, phrases neat, exact, and perfect, terms ap- 
propriate, good taste supreme in aU that concerns externals 
and visible appearance; whatever, in short, contributes to 
regal presentation. As for the moral basis, that is slim and 
mediocre enough, we must allow, or rather, it is absent. 
But let us read the letter : — 

" I arrived here [Montargis] before five o'clock," writes the 
king; "the princess did not come till nearly six. I went to 
receive her at the carriage ; she let me speak first, and after- 
wards she replied extremely well, but with a little embarrass- 
ment that would have pleased you. I led her to her room 
through the crowd, letting her be seen from time to time by 
making the torches come nearer to her face. She bore that 



184 COEKESPONDENCE OP 

marcli and the lights with grace and modesty. At last we 
reached her room, where there was a crowd, and heat enough 
to kill us. I showed her now and then to those who ap- 
proached us, and I considered her in every way in order to 
write you what I think of her. She has the best grace and 
the prettiest figure I have ever seen; dressed to paint, and 
hair the same ; eyes very bright and very beautiful, the lashes 
black and admirable; complexion very even, white and red, 
all that one could wish ; the finest blond hair that was ever 
seen, and in great quantity. She is thin, but that belongs to 
her years ; her mouth is rosy, the lips full, the teeth white, 
long, and ill-placed ; the hands well shaped, but the colour of 
her age. She speaks little, so far as I have seen; is not em- 
barrassed when looked at, like a person who has seen the 
world. She curtseys badly, with a rather Italian air. She 
has also something of an Italian in her face ; but she pleases ; 
I saw that in the eyes of those present. As for me, I am 
wholly satisfied. She resembles her first portrait, not the 
second. To speak to you as I always do, I must tell you that 
I find her all that could be wished ; I should be sorry if she 
were handsomer. 

" I say it again : everything is pleasing except the curtsey. 
I will tell you more after supper, for there I shall observe 
many things which I have not been able to see as yet. I for- 
got to tell you that she is short rather than tall for her age. 
Up to this time I have done marvels ; I hope I can sustain a 
certain easy air I have taken until we reach Fontainebleau, 
where I greatly desire to find myself." 

At ten o'clock that night, before going to bed, the king 
added the following postscript : — 

" The more I see of the princess, the more satisfied I am. 
We had a public conversation, in which she said nothing, and 
that is saying all. Her waist is very beautiful, one might 
say perfect, and her modesty would please you. We supped 
and she did not fail in anything, and has a charming polite- 
ness to every one ; but to me and my son she fails in nothing, 
and behaves as you might have done. She was much looked 



THE DUCHESSE DE BOURGOGNE. 185 

at and observed; and all present seemed in good faith to be 
satisfied. Her air is noble, ber manners polished and agree- 
able ; I have pleasure in telling you such good of her, for I 
find that, without prepossession or flattery, I can do so and 
that everything obliges me to do so." 

Now, shall I venture to express my thought ? There is 
certainly a mention of modesty in one or two places in the 
letter ; but it is of the modest air, the good effect produced, 
the grace that depended on it. For all the rest it is impossi- 
ble to find on these pages anything other than a charming 
physical, external, and mundane description, without the 
slightest concern as to inward and moral qualities. Evi- 
dently the king is as little concerned about those as he is 
deeply anxious about externals. Let the princess succeed 
and please, let her charm and amuse, let her adorn the 
Court and enliven it, give her a good confessor, a sound 
Jesuit, and for aU the rest let her be and do what pleases 
her ; the king asks nothing else : that is the impression left 
upon me by that letter. 

If there had entered into this letter written from Mon- 
targis even a flash of moral solicitude in the midst of the 
record of those external graces and perfect proprieties, Louis 
XIV. would not have been, after twelve years' hourly 
intimacy, the odious and hard grandfather of the scene at 
Marly near the carp basin, to the mother of his expected 
heir. I send the reader for the details and the accessories of 
that singular scene to Saint-Simon, who in this instance is 
our Tacitus, the Tacitus of a king not naturally cruel, but 
who was so that day by force of egotism and selfishness. 
That first letter from Montargis, so elegant, so smiling 
on the outward surface, covered in its depths the vanity 
and egotism of a master, solicitude solely for decorum and 
curtseying — the scene at the basin of carp concludes it. 



186 COERESPONDENCE OE 

I shall not reproduce here the divers portraits of the 
Duchesse de Bourgogne ; I should have to take them from 
many sources, but above all from Saint-Simon. She was 
neither handsome nor pretty, she was better than either. 
Each feature of her face taken separately might seem defec- 
tive, even ugly, but from all these uglinesses, these defects, 
these irregularities arranged by the hand of the Graces, came 
a nameless harmony of her person, a delightful ensemble, the 
movement and airy whirl of which enchanted both eyes and 
soul. In moral qualities it was the same. 

She played a part in "Athalie;" why should I not tell 
what she thought of that play, capricious child that she was ? 
Apropos of its representation at Saint-Cyr, Mme. de Main- 
tenon writes : " Here is ' Athahe ' again breaking down. Ill- 
luck pursues all that I protect and care for. Mme. la 
Duchesse de Bourgogne tells me it can never succeed, that 
the piece is cold, that Eacine regretted it, that I am the only 
person who likes it, and a number of other things which 
enable me to perceive, through the knowledge I have of this 
Court, that her part displeases her. She wants to play 
Josabeth, which she cannot play as well as the Comtesse 
d'Ayen." ^ As soon as they gave her the role she liked, the 
point of view was changed in a moment; such were the 
coulisses of Saint-Cyr ! " She is dehghted," continues Mme. 
de Maintenon, " and now thinks ' Athalie' marvellous. Let 
us play it, then, inasmuch as we have agreed to do so ; but, 
in truth, it is not agreeable to mix in the pleasures of the 
great." The Duchesse de Bourgogne came of that race of 
the great which wiU soon be a race departed. She deserves 

1 Sainte-Beuve does not mention that this letter was written by 
Mme. de Maintenon to the Comte d'Ayen to soothe him for the part of 
Josabeth being taken from his wife. Mme. de Maintenon's diplomacy is 
visible. — Tr. 



THE DUCHESSE DE BOUEGOGNE. 187 

to remain in the vista as a true representative in her 
transitory life of its lightest and most seductive charm. 

The letters of the duchess which have been published up 
to this time are mere notes, adding nothing to the idea that 
we form of her miud. La Fare, in his memoirs written 
about the year 1699, has very well remarked that after the 
death of Madame, Henrietta of England (grandmother of 
Marie-Adelaide) in 1670, the taste for things of intellect was 
greatly lowered in that brilliant Court of Louis XIV, " It 
is certain," he says, " that in losing that princess the Court 
lost the only person of her rank who was capable of liking 
and distinguishing real merit; since her death, nothing is 
seen but gambling, confusion, and impoliteness. " Towards 
the close of the reign of Louis XIV. a taste for matters of 
mind and even for the refinements of wit reappeared no doubt 
and found favour in the little circles of Saint-Maur and 
Sceaux, but the body of the Court during that period was a 
victim to hassette, lansquenet, and other excesses, in which 
wine bore its fair share. The Duchesse de Berry, daughter 
of the future regent, was not the only young woman to 
whom it happened to be drunk. The Duchesse de Bourgogne 
herself, entering such society, found it difficult sometimes not 
to fall into the vices of the day, into those nets of which 
lansquenet was the best known and the most ruinous. More 
than once the king or Mme. de Maintenon paid her debts. 
But she asked for pardon with such good grace and sub- 
mission by letter, and by word of mouth with such pretty 
and coaxing ways that she was sure to obtain it. 

Those who judged her with the most severity are all 
agreed that she corrected herself with age, and that her 
will, her rare spirit, her sense of the rank she was about to 
hold, triumphed in the end over her first impetuosity and 
petulance. " Three years before her death," writes Madame, 



188 COREESPONDENCE OF 

motlier of tlie regent, honest and terrible woman who says 
all things bluntly, " the dauphine had entirely changed, to 
her great advantage ; she no longer made escapades or drank 
too much. Instead of behaving like an intractable being, 
she became sensible and polite, behaved according to her 
rank, and no longer allowed her young ladies to be familiar 
with her, and put their fingers in her dish." Uncomfortable 
praises, perhaps, with which we could dispense. But at this 
distance of time we can hear all without scruple, and, while 
doing homage to a person who had the gift of charm, we may 
dare to look on manners and customs as they were.^ We 
must resolve, whatever it costs us, to leave the chamber of 
Mme. de Maintenon and the twilight of its sanctuary. The 
Duchesse de Bourgogne has been pictured to us in the garb 
of Saint-Cyr ; it is not in that habit that she is, to my think- 
ing, most natural or truest. 

A delicate question presents itself, — more dehcate than 
that of lansquenet: did the Duchesse de Bourgogne have 
weaknesses of the heart ? Adored by her young husband, 
and knowing how to take in hand his interests under all 
attacks, it does not seem that she had for his person a very 
warm or tender liking. Hence one does not see what there 
was to guarantee her from some other penchant. Saint- 
Simon, who is in no way 'malevolent to the Duchesse de 
Bourgogne, relates with great detail and as if receiving the 
confidences of well-informed persons, the slight weaknesses 
of the princess for M. de ISTangis, M. de Maul^vrier, and the 
Abbd de Polignac. "At Marly," he says, "the dauphine 
would run about the gardens with other young people till 

1 Sainte-Beuve has selected the harshest terms in which Madame has 
mentioned the dauphine's change of conduct. The reader will have 
read, earlier in this volume, Madame's other and much fuller comments, 
which are kind and evidently just. — Tr. 



THE DUCHESSE DE BOURGOGNE. 189 

three and four o'clock in the morning. The king never knew 
of these nocturnal expeditions." Nevertheless, I do not 
desire to do otherwise than agree with Mme. de Caylus, 
who, while admitting the liking of the princess for M. de 
Nangis, makes haste to add : " The only thing I doubt is 
whether the affair ever went so far as people thought ; I am 
convinced that the whole intrigue took place in looks, and, 
at most, in a few letters." 

In the midst of all her levity and childish frivolity the 
Duchesse de Bourgogne had serious good qualities, which 
increased as the years went on. She said very sweetly one 
day to Mme. de Maintenon: "Aunt, I am under infinite 
obhgations to you ; you have had the patience to wait for 
my reason." She would no doubt have proved capable of 
State business and poHtics. The manner in which she 
knew how to defend the prince, her husband, against the 
cabal of the Due de Yendome, the striking revenge she 
took upon the latter at Marly, and the back-handed stroke 
by which she ousted him, show us plainly what she could 
do that was able and persistent when a matter came close 
to her heart. The few letters which she wrote to the Due 
de Noailles, in which she says she knows nothing of politics, 
go to prove, on the contrary, that, if she could have talked 
about them instead of writing, she would have hked very 
well to take part in them. There is a more serious matter, 
which I see no reason for disguising. According to Duclos 
[author of " The Secret Memoirs of the reign of Louis XIV.," 
etc.], this fascinating child, so dear to the king, did, never- 
theless, betray France by informing her father, the Due 
de Savoie, then become our enemy, of military plans which 
she was able to discover when, with playful familiarity and 
the liberty of entering the king's cabinet at all hours, she 
had the opportunity to read and learn those plans at their 



190 CORRESPONDENCE OF 

source. The king, adds the historian, found the proofs of 
this treachery, after the death of the princess, in her desk. 
" The Kttle rogue," he is reported to have said to Mme. de 
Maintenon, "deceived us after all." 

In spite of all, we find ourselves regretting that this 
princess, taken from us at the age of twenty -six, whose 
natural fairy-like presence bewitched all hearts, did not 
live to reign beside the virtuous pupil of F^nelon. The 
reign of their son, that Louis XV. who was only a pretty 
child at their deaths and became the most contemptible of 
kings, would at least have been postponed. But what good 
is there in re-making history and in setting up a mere idea 
of what might have been ? 

[Sainte-Beuve does not show his usual justice and careful 
discrimination in his foregoing semi-acceptance of Duclos' 
tale of "perfidy." The whole story of Marie- Adelaide's 
position at the French Court should have been more clearly 
sifted. The two daughters of Vittorio Amadeo, Duke of 
Savoie, were, in a sense, hostages given by him to Louis 
XIV. in 1696 and 1701 as an earnest of faithful alHance. 
Circumstances, however, forced the duke in 1703 (during the 
war of the Spanish Succession) into the coalition against 
France. 

From the tenth century the princes of the ancient house 
of Savoie had been, for various reasons geographical and 
political, the upholders of Italian unity, or, as one might 
better say, of Italian existence. France had felt this under 
all her attempts to master Italy, until finally her wisest states- 
men, Henri IV., Eichelieu, and Mazarin, saw that their true 
policy was to use Piedmont against the extension of the 
two branches of the House of Austria. The whole history 
of the Princes of Savoie is a romance, hitherto neglected. 



THE DUCHESSE DE BOURGOGNE, 191 

■whicli ought to be traced out and written by a sympathetic 
hand. 

The alliance of France and Piedmont, so useful to the 
former by enabling her to maintain her conquests on the 
northern frontier, was converted by Louis XIV. into a 
species of vassalage, to which the indolent nature of Carlo 
Emmanuele submitted. The latter died in 1675, leaving 
one son, Vittorio Amadeo, aged nine, under the regency of 
his mother, Jeanne de Nemours, an ambitious and powerful 
woman. It is impossible to give here even a brief sketch 
of the House of Savoie, an heroic history, which should 
be rescued from the archives of Turin and elsewhere — 
in it will be found, we may add parenthetically, the story 
of the Waldenses and the secret of the Iron Mask. 

Vittorio Amadeo married Anne, daughter of Monsieur, 
Louis XIV. 's brother, by his first wife, Henrietta, daughter 
of Charles I., Kiiig of England. The grandmother to 
whom the following letters are chiefly addressed was the 
father's mother, Jeanne de Nemours. 

These letters, which seem to us very short, were laborious 
undertakings to the princess, who was never able to write 
easily. The first, in a childish round text hand, filling a 
sheet of paper twenty -three centimetres long by sixteen 
centimetres wide, is better written than those of her after 
life. The grammar and the spelling improved somewhat 
in later years, though never keeping pace with the improve- 
ment in the diction. They are signed with a sort of hiero- 
glyphic, seldom with her name, and tied by a silken thread, 
the seal being a lozenge with the arms of Savoie, or some- 
times the impression of a httle dog. 

Eeturning to the charge of Duclos (an historian of gossip 
rather than of history), it seems enough to say: (1) that his 
story has never been supported in any way ; (2) that the 



192 COEEESPONDENCE OP 

tone of the princess's letters refutes it; (3) that what we 
know from Madame about the opening of letters makes 
it certain that the little duchess, surrounded as she was, 
could not have sent documents and plans undetected;. 
(4) that Madame, that lynx for evil tales, and who did not 
like the dauphiae, though she did her justice, makes no 
allusion to this story ; and (5) that Saint-Simon, in a posi- 
tion to know everything, states the contrary. 

The little princess arrived in France, and was met by 
the king at Montargis, November 4, 1696. The following 
is her first letter to her grandmother, Jeanne de Nemours, 
dowager Duchess of Savoie. This letter and one written 
two years later are here given in the French as amusing 
specimens of her spelling and punctuation.] 

De Vbrsaie ce 13 Novembre [1696] 
Vous me pardonere Madame si ie ne uous est pas ecrit la 
peur de uous anuier me la fait fair ie fini Madame uous 
embrasan. 

Ties humble ties obeisantes petite fiUe 

M. Adelaide de Sauoie. 

Veesailles, NoTember 13 [1696]. 
You will pardon me, Madame, if I have not written you, 
the fear of ennuying you made me do it. I end, Madame, 
embracing you. 

Very humble, very obedient granddaughter, 

M.-Ad^laide de Savoie. 

[1696]. 

The trip to Marly prevented me from writing to you by 
the last courier as I had planned, my dear grandmamma. 
It is not to be believed how little time I have. I do what 
you ordered me about Madame de Maintenon. I have much 



THE DUCHESSE DE BOURGOGNE. 193 

affection for her, and confidence in her advice. Believe, my 
dear grandmamma, all that she writes you about me, though 
I do not deserve it ; but I would like you to have the pleas- 
ure of it, for I count on your love lamitie^, and I never for- 
get aU the marks you have given me of it. 

Versailles, August, 1697. 
I have had great joy in the taking of Barcelona, my dear 
grandmamma, for I am a good Frenchwoman, and I feel for 
all that pleases the king, to whom I am attached as much 
as you can wish. Though I do not enter much into affairs 
of State, I understand that we shall soon have peace, and 
that will be another joy to me, for I have many in this 
country, my dear grandmamma, and I am very certain you 
share my happiness because of all your goodness to me. 

December 3 [three days before the marriage ceremony]. 
I am well assured, my dear grandmamma, that you take 
part in the accomplishment of my happiness ; do me the 
same justice on the feelings that I have for you, which will 
always be full of tenderness and respect. I assure you in 
my change of state I shall be always the same through life. 

Versailles, February 28, 1698. 
I hope to repair, when I know how to write, the faults 
that I make now, and to let you see, my dear grandmamma, 
that I write to you rarely because I write so badly ; but I 
love you tenderly, none the less. I am going to a ball. 

Versailles, March 25, 1698. 

I hope I write pretty well, my dear grandmamma ; I have 
a master who takes such pains I should do very wrong not 
to profit by the care they take of everything concerning me. 

The Duchesse du Lude has come to me ; which delights 

13 



194 COEEESPONDENCE OF 

me, and it is true that Mme. de Maintenon sees me as often 
as she can. I think I can assure you that those two ladies 
love me. Never doubt, my dear grandmamma, that I love 
you as much as I should. 

Veesailb ce 25 Mars. 1698 

lespere que iescrire assez hien, ma chere grandmaman jai 
un maitre qui se donne beaucoup de paine iaurois grans tort 
de ne pas profitter des soins qu'on prend de tout ce que me 
regarde la D du Lude estre venue auprais de moy dont je 
suis ravie et il est vrai que Mme. de Mentenon me voit le 
plus souvent qui lui est possible ie croye pouvoir vous as- 
surer sans saut [trop ?] me flatter que ces deux dames 
maimen. Ne douttes iamais ma chere gran maman que ie 
ne vous aime tons jours autan que ie le dois. 

May 26, 1698. 
It is time, my dear grandmamma, that I knew how to 
write ; they often reproach me here for the shame of a mar- 
ried woman [set. 13] who has a master for such a common 
thing. 

July 2, 1698. 

They are working on my menagerie. The king has or- 
dered Mansart to spare nothing. Imagine, my dear grand- 
mamma, what it will be. But I shall only see it on my 
return from Fontainebleau. It is true that the king's kind- 
nesses to me are wonderful ; but also, I love him well. 

CoMPiiiGNE, September 13, 1698.1 
I never thought, my dear grandmamma, that I should find 
myself in a besieged town, and be waked by the sound of 
cannon as I was this morning. I hope we shall soon get out 

1 Saturday, September 13th, was the day of the assault of the town and 
of the singular scene with Mme. de Maintenon, described by Saint-Simon. 
See vol. i. of translated edition, — Te. 



THE DUCHESSE DE BOURGOGNE, 195 

of this state. It is true that I have great pleasures here. I 
shall be delighted to go back to Versailles and to the men- 
agerie at Saint-Cyr. Certainly one has no leisure to be 
bored. I am convinced that you share my happiness, be- 
cause of the love you have for me. 

FoNTAiNEBLEAu, October 31, 1698. 

The stay at Fontainebleau is very agreeable to me, espe- 
cially as it is the second place where I had the honour of 
seeing the king ; and I hope, my dear grandmamma, that I 
shall be happy not only at Fontainebleau but everywhere, 
being resolved to do all that depends on me to be so. 

Those who love me have every reason to be glad with me 
in the king's kindness, for he gives me every day fresh 
marks of it. I have reason to think it will increase ; at any 
rate I shall forget nothing on my part to deserve it. I am 
going to try a new pleasure, — that of travelling. But I 
shall love you everywhere, my dear grandmamma. 

Versailles, December, 1698. 
I could not write you by the last courier, my dear grand- 
mamma, because I am out continually, and every evening I 
go to the king. I am sure that excuse will not displease 
you, and that you will think my time weU spent if near the 
king. His kindness to me can never be expressed ; and as I 
know the interest you take in my happiness I am very glad 
to assure you it is perfect, and that I shall never forget the 
tenderness I ought to have and do have for you. 

January 10, 1699, 

I am not yet free enough, my dear grandmamma, with 

M. le Due de Bourgogne to do the honours of him. I am 

only very glad that you are content with his letter. I wish 

that mine could express what I desire for your happiness 



196 COEKESPONDENCE OF 

during this year and many other years, and how much I 

hope that you will love me always. 

MAELT,July3, 1699. 

I am very glad, my dear grandmamma, that you are not 

tired of telling me of your friendship, for I always receive 

the assurance of it with fresh joy. I wish I could tell you 

of the beauty of this place and of the pleasures we have 

here. I am delighted to be on the footing of coming here 

on all the trips, for I like these as well as I do those of the 

Marly-Bourgogne. I embrace you, my dear grandmamma, 

and I am going to bathe. 

December 27, 1699. 

It is true, my dear grandmother, that I have a good friend 

in Mme. de Maiutenon, and it will not be her fault if I am 

not perfect and happy. M. le Cardinal d'Estr^es wishes to 

carry a letter to you from me, and I give it to him willingly. 

I shall trust to his informing you of all that concerns me ; 

but he cannot tell you how I love you, nor to what point I 

am touched by your kmdness. I go about in mask the 

last few days, and so, sleeping very late, I have little time 

for the rest. 

Fo Vittorio Amadeo, Due de Savoie. 

January 3, 1700. 

Be pleased to approve, my dear father, that, according to 
custom, I should renew at the beginning of this year the 
assurances of my respect, my gratitude, and my tenderness 
for you, and I beg you to love me always. M. de Brionne 
tells me things as to that which give me great pleasure, as 
proving to me that my removal has not diminished your 
affection for me. 

If I do not write of tener, my dear father, believe, I entreat 
you, that the fear of importuning you prevents it, also the 



THE DUCHESSE DE BOURGOGNE. 197 

confidence I have that you will never doubt the feelings of 
tenderness, respect, and gratitude which I owe to the best 
father in the world. I should be grieved indeed if I did 
not do you justice in that respect ; you could not think 
otherwise without having a bad opinion of me, who indeed 
deserve the tenderness I ask of you. 

March 20, 1700. 

There is never a time that I do not receive your letters 
with pleasure, my dear grandmamma ; but it is true that 
the carnival keeps me occupied, and the balls lead to other 
occupations that take all my time. That is what has hin- 
dered me from writing. I am delighted that the reports 
made to you of me have been agreeable ; for I desire to 
please you in everything and preserve the affection you have 
always had for me. 

November 16, 1700. 

I am delighted, my dear grandmamma, that you approve 
of what I am doing ; I have no stronger passion than that of 
doing nothing wrong and thus deserving the esteem of hon- 
ourable people. Yours, my dear grandmamma, is precious 
to me. 

Perhaps you will thiuk this discourse very serious ; but I 
warn you I am no longer a child ; even my gayety is a little 
diminished. The more reasonable I become, the more I 
know, my dear grandmamma, how much I ought to love you. 

December 27, 1701. 

I am ashamed, my dear grandmamma, to have been so 
long without writing to you. It may be partly my fault, 
and for that I beg your pardon ; but I assure you we lead a 
life of great irregularity, changing continually from place to 
place. 

I am delighted to teU you that my sister is very happy 



198 CORRESPONDENCE OF 

and that the King of Spain is extremely content with her. 

[Marie-Louise de Savoie, married to Philippe V.] What she 

did about her women was only a piece of childishness, and 

had no consequences. I hope that she and I, my dear 

grandmamma, will give you nothing but joy, and that my 

irregularities will never make you doubt the affection that I 

have for you. 

January 9, 1702. 

I am very irregular, my dear grandmother, in not having 
wished you a happy year, but I have been unweU with in- 
flammations and headaches. Forgive me, dear grandmother, 
and do not think that I love you less tenderly. The Marquis 
de Coudray is returning to Turin. You can hear more 
about me in detail from him. He seems charmed with this 
country. I have spared no pains to make him satisfied with 
me, and I think I have succeeded. He will tell you that 
your granddaughter has grown tall. It seems to me that I 
am no longer young ; my childhood has lasted but a short 
time ! 

[The correspondence with her mother, Anne, daughter of 
Monsieur and Henrietta of England, was doubtless volumi- 
nous, but it has disappeared. Four letters remain for the 
month of January of this year, showing their rapid inter- 
course, but only three for the rest of Marie-Addlaide's short 
lifetime.] 

January 2, 1702. 

I think with you, my dear mother, that news from Spain 
comes slowly. I would like to know all that She does from 
morning till night, to satisfy the interest that I feel. I am, 
however, more easy now that I feel the true affection that 
exists between the King of Spain and Her. I hope, my dear 
mother, that we shall have in that direction sources of joy 
only. 



THE DUCHESSE DE BOUEGOGNE. 199 

I pique myself now on being a great personage, and I 

think that " Mamma " is not suitable. But I shall love still 

more my dear mother than my dear mamma, because I now 

understand better what your value is, and what I owe 

to you. 

Versailles, January 9, 1702. 

I have no news from you this week, my dear mother, for 
which I am sorry: but I think the ice and snow are the 
reason. The wretched weather prevents our going to Marly, 
for it is not fit weather for the country. I fear this winter 
will give us no amusement that I can write about; on 
account of the mourning there may be no balls, theatres, or 
any pleasures. I do not regret it much, for the carnival 
is very short this year, and consequently more easy to do 
without. 

January 23, 1702. 

I send you the plan which M. Mansart has returned to me. 
It seems to me very pretty, if the works are well executed. 
He begs me to ask if you would like him to send you a man 
to execute them. You have only to tell me what you wish. 
I will gladly take charge of it, my dear mother, desiring noth- 
ing so much as to please you in all things. 

The King of Spain's journey to Italy is decided on. This 
gives me great pleasure, and I see at the same time that they 
are stUl greatly satisfied with my sister. I will tell you 
more by the next courier. 

I am now going to see the Queen of England, and thence 
to Marly, where we shall dance. On this trip we played a 
comedy [this was the time when they played " Athalie "] ; 
the king was much pleased with it, and so was Monseigneur. 
Eorgive me, my dear mother, if I write badly ; it is because 
I am so hurried. You know well that I love best to write 
to you and amuse you for a moment. 



200 COKEESPONDENCE OF 

Adieu, my very dear mother ; I embrace you with, all my 
heart, my dear mother, with all my heart. 

Mablt, January 30, 1702. 

Thank God, I am rid of inflammation, my dear mother, 
after having my cheek swelled for a week, with fever at 
night. The great cold prevented them from giving me 
remedies, of which I was very glad; they wanted at all 
risks to bleed me, assuring me that the inflammation would 
continue if it were not done. However, I am rid of the swell- 
ing without it, and, provided it does not return, I am content. 

I am very sorry, my dear mother, that you do not receive 
my letters regularly ; yours do not play me the same trick. 
The prospect of peace continues wonderfully good, and it 
makes me hope that we shall soon have it. I own to you, 
my dear mother, that I await it with great impatience, for I 
think we shall all have reason then to be satisfied. It will be 
a great consolation to me to see no more of this vile war 
which has lasted for so long a time. 

Adieu, my dear mother; love me always, and be assured 
of the tender feelings that I have for you. 

Versailles, July 4, 1702. 

We have been much afflicted, my dear grandmother [by 
the death of Monsieur, her maternal grandfather] and I have 
felt for my own sake much more than I expected. I loved 
Monsieur very much and I think he loved me. His death 
was unexpected, at least by us, and all the circumstances 
were painful. I am convinced, my dear grandmother, that 
you have felt it also, and I count on your affection under all 
events. Never doubt that which I have for you. 

April 2, 1703. 

I am delighted, my dear grandmother, that you have given 
me a commission. I send you a sample of tea, which they 



THE DUCHESSE DE BOUEGOGNE. 201 

assure me is excellent. If you find it so I wiU send you 
more. The king does not take it ; M. Fagon orders him sage 
tea, which agrees with him. I hope the use of this tea will 
do the same with you ; no one in the world feels more inter- 
est in you than I, my dear grandmother. 

[Only two letters of the year 1704 have been preserved. 
The health of the princess caused such anxiety that she was 
made (according to Daugeau's Journal) to keep her bed from 
February 8th until after the birth of her first child, the 
Duo de Bretagne, born June 25, 1704. She was then 
eighteen years old.] 

September 1, 1704. 

I am ashamed, my dear grandmother, to have been so long 
without writing to you ; but I have had many ailments that 
prevented it. You will surely believe that I would not 
otherwise have been all this time without assuring you of 
my tenderness and begging you for that you have always 
shown me. 

I cannot help telling you about my son, who is very well ; 

he would be rather pretty if he did not have an eruption, 

but I am in hopes when we get to Fontainebleau he will 

have no more of it. 

April 25, 1705. 

I cannot, my dear grandmother, be longer without com- 
forting myself with you in the sorrow that has befallen me 
[death of her son]. I am convinced that you have felt it, for 
I know the affection you have for me. If we did not take all 
the sorrows of this life from God, I do not know what would 
become of us. I think He wants to draw me to Him, by over- 
whelming me with every sort of grief. My health suffers 
greatly, but that is the least of my troubles. 

I have received one of your letters, my dear grandmother, 
which gave me great pleasure ; the assurances of your affec- 



202 COERESPONDENCE OF 

tion bring me consolation. I have great need of it in my 
present state. Adieu; I write so slowly that the shortest 
letters take me a great deal of time. 

[At the close of the year 1703 her father, Vittorio Amadeo, 
had entered the alliance against France ; the battle of Eamil- 
lies was fought May 23, 1706, and the French were defeated 
at Turin September 7 of the same year.] 

Marly, June 21, 1706. 

I can be no longer, my dear grandmother, without sharing 
all our troubles with you. Imagine my anxiety as to what 
is happening with you, loving you as I do very tenderly and 
having all possible affection for my father, my mother, and 
my brothers. I cannot think of them in so unhappy a posi- 
tion without tears in my eyes, for assuredly, my dear grand- 
mother, I feel for all that concerns you, and I see by all that 
is in me to what point my love for my family goes. 

My health is not so much injured as it might be ; I am 
pretty well, but in a state of sadness which no amusement 
can lessen, and which will never leave me, my dear grand- 
mother, for it serves to comfort me in my present state. 

Do not deprive me, I conjure you, of your letters. They 
give me much pleasure ; I need them in the state I am in. 
Send me news of all that is dearest to me in the world. 

Marlt, July 25, 1706. 

I have not written, my dear grandmother, not knowing 
if you are still with my mother, being unable to obtain 
the slightest information. You know my heart; imagine 
therefore the state I am in. I feel for yours ; I cannot be 
reconciled to your trials ; I see them increasing with extreme 
sorrow ; there is not a day when I do not feel them keenly, 
and weep in thinking of what my dear family — whom I 
would give my life to comfort — is suffering. 



THE DUCHESSE DE BOUEGOGNE. 203 

I am glad, my dear grandmother, that the fatigues of so 
sad and painful a journey [the removal of the royal family 
from Turin before the siege] has not injured your health. 
I pity my mother, who, for additional sorrow, is anxious 
about the illness of her children and yet is obliged to travel 
with them in such excessive heat and over such dreadful 
roads. 

I have no other comfort, my dear grandmother, than in 

receiving your letters and the assurance of your affection. 

We all need great courage to sustain such violent griefs as 

those we have had of late. God is trying me by ways in 

which I feel it most ; I must resign myself to His will, and 

pray that He will soon withdraw us from the state in which 

we are. As for me, I feel I cannot bear it longer if He does 

not give me strength. 

Vebsailles, March, 1707. 

I am delighted, my dear grandmother, that you exhort 
me to give you frequent news of my son [the second Due 
de Bretagne, born January 7, 1707] ; I assure you I do not 
need to be urged to do so. He is very well, thank God. 
I found him much grown and changed for the better on my 
return to Marly. He is not handsome, up to this time, 
but very lively, and much healthier than he was when he 
came into the world. He is only two months old, and I 
should not be surprised if, a few months hence, he became 
pretty. I don't know whether it is that I am beginning 
to blind myself about him and therefore hope it. But I 
beheve that I shall never be blind about my children, and 
that the love I have for them will make me see their 
defects and so try in good season to correct them. 

I go very seldom to see my son, in order not to grow too 
attached to him ; also to note the changes in him. He 
is not old enough to play with as yet, and as long as I 



204 COERESPONDENCE OF 

know lie is in good health, I am satisfied ; that is all I need 
wish for as yet. 

To Mme. de Maintenon. 

Veksailles, July, 1707. 
I am in despair, my dear aunt, to be always doing foolish 
things and giving you reason to complain of me. I am 
thoroughly resolved to correct myself, and not play any 
longer at that miserable game, which only injures my 
reputation, and diminishes your affection, which is more 
precious to me than all. I beg you, my dear aunt, not to 
speak of this in case I keep the resolution I have made. 
If I break it only once, I should be glad that the king 
would forbid me to play, and I would bear whatever im- 
pression it might make against me in his mind. I shall 
never console myself for beiag the cause of your troubles, 
and I will not forget that cursfed lansquenet. All that I 
desire in the world is to be a princess esteemed for my 
conduct ; and that I will endeavour to deserve in the 
future. I flatter myself that my age is not too advanced, 
or my reputation too much tarnished, to enable me with 
time to succeed. 

Versailles, January 2, 1708. 

Here we are, my dear grandmother, at the beginning of 
another year, which I hope may be as prosperous as you 
can desire it. It will be so for me if you continue to love 
me; I ask it with aU the respect and tenderness I have 
for you. 

We are much occupied here with a grand baU which 
will take place the night before the Epiphany. I am pre- 
pared to amuse myself much. Every day I practise getting 
my breath to dance well, which I think will be very diffi- 
cult, for I have absolutely forgotten how to do so, and I 
have grown very heavy, which is not good for dancing. 



THE DUCHESSE DE BOURGOGNE. 205 

Versailles, April 2, 1708. 
I have a great desire to know what you think of the 
portrait of my son. His health is better and better, and 
he thrives on his new milk. He begins to give me a 
good deal of pleasure, for he knows much and has very 
amiable manners, which I hope will go on increasing. 

Marly, May 7, 1708. 
I beheve you have heard of the accident which happened 
to me, and which has prevented me from writing sooner, 
my dear grandmother; but I am now quite recovered and 
beginning to pick up my strength.^ 

FONTAINEBLEAU, July 5, 1708. 

I am afraid, my dear grandmother, that if you have the 
same weather that we do you will suffer from inflammation. 
There is not a day that it does not rain and that causes 
great humidity. The milk I am taking does me good, 
but if I come in late I have toothache during the night. 
But my health is coming back to its usual state. You 
are very kind in wishing to be informed of it ; I feel all 
your kindnesses. 

EONTAINEBLEATJ, July 31, 1708. 

The milk I have taken did not do me as much good as 
I hoped during the time I took it ; but since I left it off I 
think I am the better for it. [It was probably asses' milk, a 
great remedy in those days.] I have taken it with all pos- 
sible regularity; for when I do take remedies I do it 
thoroughly. My face is coming to itself, and I am begin- 
ning to fatten, but I have to take great care to avoid the 
twilight dampness. 

[It was during this summer that the cabal of Vendome, or 

1 This was the miscarriage which caused the memorable scene at the 
carp basin. — Te. 



206 CORRESPONDENCE OF 

as Saint-Simon calls it, the cabal of Meudon, made its great 
attempt to ruin the Due de Bourgogne during the campaign 
in Flanders, and that his wife proved her brave spirit in de- 
fending him. The princess's own letters say nothing of 
all this ; but a letter exists from the Due de Bourgogne 
to Mme. de Maintenon, who seems to have written to 
him to counteract some attack upon his wife, which is as 

follows : — 1 

Camp of Lo'^'endeghem, August 27, 1708. 

It is not very difficult to justify Madame la Duchesse de 
Bourgogne to me as to matters on which I do not place en- 
tire faith, and I am only too much inclined to be favourable 
to her in everything. But the affection of which she has 
now given me such signal marks made me apprehend that 
she might have gone a httle too far in certain speeches. I 
have already told her several times that I am satisfied with 
what she has replied to me as to tliis, and my present fear 
is that I may have pained her a little by what I wrote to 
her. I beg you to tell her so once more, madame, and to 
make her see how charmed I am with her affection and con- 
fidence. I flatter myself that I deserve them, and I shall 
endeavour more and more to merit her esteem. 

To-day is not the first time that I have known of persons 
at Court who do not hke her, and who see with annoyance 
the affection that the king shows for her. I behave I am 
not ignorant of their names. It will be for you, madame, 
when I see you, to enlighten me more particularly, that 
proper precautions may be taken to save Madame la Du- 
chesse de Bourgogne from falling into certain very dangerous 
traps, which I have often seen you dread. As for mischief- 
making, it would be most unjust to accuse her of that ; she 
sovereignly despises it, and her spirit is far indeed from 
being what is called the woman's spirit. She has assuredly 



THE DUCHESSE DE BOL'EGOGXE. 207 

a solid mind, much good sense, an excellent and very noLle 
heart — but you know her better than I, and this portrait is 
useless. Perhaps the pleasure that I have in speaking of 
her prevents me from perceiving that I do it too often and 
at too great length. Louis. 

To Vittorio Amadeo, Due de, Savoie. 

Yeesailles, Dec. 31, 1708. 

The assurances, my dear father, that my mother gives me 
of your continued affection for me have caused me too much 
pleasure not to make me tell you myself of my gratitude, 
and how sensible I am of your remembrance. Nothing can 
ever diminish my respect and tenderness for you. Blood, 
my dear father, makes itself warmly felt under all circum- 
stances, and in spite of my destiny — unfortunate because it 
puts me in a party opposed to yours — your interests are so 
strongly imjirinted in my heart that nothing can make me 
wish the contrary. But this very tenderness only increases 
my grief when I think that we are among the number of 
your enemies. I own that affection may feel somewhat 
wounded by seeing you arrayed against both your daughters. 
But as for me, I will never be against you, and I can only 
regard you as the father whom I love as my own life. But 
that is not saying enough ; I would willingly sacrifice my 
life for you ; your interests are the sole object of my 
present desires. 

Permit me, therefore, my dear father, to forestall by a day 
the coming year and to wish that it may lead us to the end 
of my sorrow and reunite us in a manner that shall crown 
us with joy. I venture to tell you that it depends on you 
alone to make me the happiest person in the world. 

I fear to importune you by the length of this letter ; but 
you will pardon me the liberty I take. I cannot prevent 



208 CORRESPONDENCE OF 

myself from assuring you at least once a year of my tender- 
ness and respect, asking you at the same time for the con- 
tinuation of your affection. I think I deserve it, and shall 
never make myself unworthy of it. 

[With the year 1709 the letters begin to show distress at 
the sorrowful results of the war, at the terrible winter, her 
faihng health, and, above all, the reserve she was forced to 
maintain towards her family.] 

Versailles, February 4, 1709. 

Would to God, my dear grandmother, that your prayers 
could be granted. We should then, each of us, have reason 
to be content, for though we live now in different lands we 
could then think ahke on many subjects. 

It appears that the excessive cold prevails everywhere. 
They say it is two hundred years since such a severe winter 
has been known here. It is thought impossible to keep Lent 
because all vegetables are frozen, and the archbishop will be 
obliged to allow three meat days a week. As for me, I am 
not interested, for my health does not allow me to fast ; fish 
makes me ill. 

I have a strong desire to drive out on a sledge ; for I never 
did so ; a very pleasant idea of it is in my mind from having 
seen my mother do it. But I own I have not enough cour- 
age on account of the bitter cold. I shaU not have much 
trouble in giving you an account of the amusements of 
this carnival. It has been very duU. up to this time, and I 
think it will end in the same way. There can be no balls, 
for there is no one to dance. Several ladies are pregnant, 
and those who are lately married come from convents and 
do not know how to dance. There are but nine ladies 
who can do so, and half of those are little girls. I should 
be the old woman of a ball [set. 23], which takes away all 
my desire for one. I do not know what folly possesses 



THE DUCHESSE DE BOUEGOGNE. 209 

the women now, but at thirty years of age they think they 
are past dancing ; if the fashion lasts, I ought to make the 
most of the time that is left to me. 

September 23, 1709. 

I have been for three days very ill, having vomited at 
intervals, which fatigues me greatly, not being accustomed 
to it. Otherwise, my health is good. I hope very much to 
give you another grandson, and I do not doubt it, for I am 
as I was with the two others. 

I have been in the greatest anxiety the last week ; but 
never was a lost battle so advantageous and glorious 
[Malplaquet]. That is to me a great consolation. You will 
hear, my dear grandmother, from my sister the anxiety she, 
too, has been in about the King of Spain, who started hur- 
riedly to put himself at the head of his army because he was 
not satisfied with the manoeuvring of the man who com- 
manded it. 

I do not know, my dear grandmother, who has written 
you such marvels of my son. It is true that he is pretty in 
manners and mind, but not in looks. 

December 9, 1709. 

When, my dear grandmother, when will come the long 
desired day when we can speak frankly on so many things 
about which we are forced to keep silence now ? This war 
has lasted so long ! I believe that all of those who are mak- 
ing it desire its end ; and yet in spite of that it continues. 
The more you could look into the bottom of my heart, the 
better you would know, my dear grandmother, that it is 
what it should be, and full of feeling — which does not con- 
tribute to my tranquillity. But I have no regret for what I 
suffer, for I know that blood and duty ordain it for me. 

I have spent my day in the church, which is no small 
matter in my present condition. Now that I have passed 

14 



210 CORRESPONDENCE OF 

the eighth month I am very languishing. The changes of 

month always affect me in my pregnancies, so that I hope in 

a few days I shall be over it. 

March 24, 1710. 

I was most agreeably mistaken, my dear grandmother, 
in giving you another grandson [Louis XV., then called Due 
d'Anjou]. He is the prettiest child in the world, and I be- 
lieve he wiU become a great beauty. Though it is of no 
consequence after they grow up, one likes better to have a 

pretty child than an ugly one. 

Versailles, June 23, 1710. 

There is no talk of anything here, my dear grandmother, 
but the marriage of the Due de Berry. Though it will take 
place without any ceremony (for the times do not allow 
amusements or great expenses), all the ladies are none the 
less busy with their finery. This does not render conversa- 
tion very lively, nor does it give much matter for a letter, 
for really nothing is talked of but head-dresses, costumes, 
petticoats, and milliners, and though I am a woman, I never 
take much pleasure in such discussions. I have a great 
desire for the wedding to take place and end all discussions 
about it. They are waiting for the dispensation from Eome. 
I hope in ten or twelve days to send you a brief accomit of 
the event. 

Every one teUs me that my father will begin the cam- 
paign on the first of next month. Judge, therefore, my dear 
grandmother, of my uneasiness ; it is the last stroke. But 
in whatever state I am, be sure that you have a grand- 
daughter who loves you tenderly. 

July 7, 1710. 

M. le Due de Berry was married yesterday. It was all as 
magnificent as the season and the times would allow. There 
was no fete; and that is aU I can tell you to-day, being 
completely wearied out. 



THE DUCHESSE DE BOURGOGNE. 211 

NoTember 17, 1710. 
I am always afraid, my dear grandmotlier, to bore you by 
talking of my cbildren, but siace you order me to give you 
news of them, I obey you with pleasure. I shall begin by 
telling you that the elder is getting sense enough to know 
he has a grandmother, and that he loves you. He grows 
immensely and, consequently, is very thin ; he is well-made, 
but rather ugly. The little one is not the same ; he is a fat 
dumpling and very handsome ; he will soon have four teeth, 
and is in fine health. As soon as he is one year old I will 
send you his portrait ; I dare not have it painted any earlier, 
for they say it brings ill-luck. I do not believe that ; but 
the case of my eldest makes me prefer to risk nothing. 

To her father. 

Marly, Eebruary 16, 1711. 

I am so charmed, my dear father, with the letter you 
have written me that I cannot prevent myself from telling 
you how sensitive I am to the assurances you give me of 
your affection. I assure you that I deserve it through the 
tenderness that I shall feel for you throughout my Kfe. 
Would to God, my dear father, that this year might be to me 
as happy as you have been kind enough to wish it. 

There is but one thing lacking to my happiness, but it is 
a thing that is very near my heart. I shall never accustom 
myself to be ia other interests than yours, and I own to you 
that my duty in vaiu compels me to be so ; nature will have 
the upper hand, and I cannot keep myself from continually 
praying for you. But, indeed, my dear father, is it not high 
time to end our sorrows ? The advantages we have won 
in Spain made me hope that peace would follow. But the 
only peace that I can have can come through you alone. 

I would not end my letter so soon, for I have many things 



212 COERESPONDENCE OF 

to say to you, if I did not fear to say too much on a topic 
which is not suitable for me in any way. Forgive it, my 
dear father, in favour of a daughter whose tenderness alone 
inclines her to speak, and who longs to see you both content 
and glorious. 

[No letters exist concerning the most important event in 
the Duchesse de Bourgogne's life, the death of Monseigneur, 
which made her dauphine, April 10, 1711. From that mo- 
ment she felt more deeply the importance of fitting herself 
for the great post she expected soon to fill.] 

To her mother. 

Versailles, May 3, 1711. 

I have had no letters from you by this courier, my very 
dear mother ; I hope, however, they may reach me within a 
few days. 

We have had very good news from Barcelona, and from 
all sides pleasant things are reaching us. All that is taking 
place in Italy causes me to make many reflections and gives 
me many hopes. I confess the truth, my very dear mother, 
it would be the greatest happiness I could have in this life 
if I could see my father brought back to reason. I cannot 
comprehend how it is that he does not make terms, above 
all in the unfortunate position in which he now finds him- 
self, and without any hope whatever of succour. Will he 
let them take Turin again ? The rumour is afloat here that 
it will not be long before that siege is laid. Judge, there- 
fore, my dear mother, of the state I must be in, — I, so 
sensitive to all that concerns you. I am in despair at the 
position to which my father is reduced by his own fault. 
Is it possible that he really thinks we will not give him 
good terms ? I assure you that all the king wants is to see 
his kingdom tranquil, and that of his grandson, the King of 



THE DUCHESSE DE BOURGOGNE. 213 

Spain, secure. It seems to me that my father ought to de- 
sire the same thing for himself, and when I consider that he 
is master of making it so, I am astonished that he does not 
do it, 

I fear, my very dear mother, that you will think me too dar- 
ing in what I say, but I cannot restrain myself under the view 
I take of my father's position. I feel that he is my father, 
and a father whom I deeply love. Therefore, my very dear 
mother, forgive me if I write too freely. It is the desire I 
have that we should all escape these difficult moments that 
makes me write as I do. I send you a letter from my sister, 
who is just as vexed as I am at what is now going on. 

Versailles, December 13, 1711. 

It is sad, my dear mother, that my brother and I have 
the same sympathy in toothache. I hope he has not had 
anything like that which I had last night ; it made me suffer 
horribly, not being rid of it one moment. For more than 
two months it has seized me from time to time. I have 
ceased taking care of it, for keeping my room does me no 
good, and during the time I am not in it I am thinking and 
always hoping the pain may not return. I merely avoid the 
wind in my ears, and eating anything which may hurt me. 
I think the dreadful weather contributes to these face-aches. 

As for me, my dear mother, I cannot be as reserved as you 
in speaking about the peace; I absolutely must tell you 
what I think of it. We have to-day another courier from 
England which confirms the hopes I feel. The conferences 
will be held at Utrecht, and will begin on the twelfth of next 
month. [The peace she longed for was not signed at Utrecht 
until a year after her death.] They would not make such 
advances if they were not veritably resolved to conclude a 
peace so desired by aU and so necessary to Europe. It is 



214 COKRESPONDENCE OF 

only the emperor who still will not listen to it ; but when 
he finds himself alone he will surely come into it. They say 
it is his usual way to make difficulties, and that the last 
time he made as many as he makes now. I hope that soon 
you will not be so reserved with me, and that we shall all 
have every reason to rejoice together. 

I look forward to the great pleasure of once more seeing 
the Piedmontese in this country, and of being able to talk to 
them of you, of all my dear family, and of the country, the 
mere recollection of which is so pleasant to me. 

Poor Mme. du Lude is again attacked with gout in the 
breast and feet ; she suffers much. I am very much afraid 
that in the end it will play her some bad trick. Madame is 
taking remedies ; she was bled two days ago and has taken 
medicine to-day. It was not before she wanted it, for she 
drops asleep everywhere, which gives much anxiety to all 
those who take an interest in her. She must have felt the 
need of remedies to have brought herself to take them. 
Adieu, my dear mother, I embrace you with all my heart. 

Versailles, December 18, 1711. 

It is in order not to miss a week in assuring you myself 
of my tenderness that I write to-day. Por the last seven 
days I have been, my dear mother, in a state of great 
exhaustion which has prevented me from dressing ; for the 
inflammation that I had in my teeth has spread now over 
my whole body. I can scarcely move ; and my head feels 
a horrible weight. 

I wanted to forestall the first day of the year by offer- 
ing to aU my family the wishes I desire for them ; not being 
able to do so, I content myself, my dear mother, by embrac- 
ing you with all my heart. 



THE DUCHESSE DE BOUEGOGNE. 215 

[The above is the last letter of the dauphine which has 
been preserved in the State Archives of Turin. She died two 
months later, February 12, 1712, aged twenty-six years and 
two months; her husband, the dauphin, died on the 18th, 
and her eldest son, the Due de Bretagne, the little dauphin, 
died a week later. See "Memoirs of the Due de Saint- 
Simon," Vol. III., translated edition.] 



VII. 

MME. DE MAINTENON AND SAINT-CYE. 

PRECEDED BY REMARKS OP 

C.-A. SAINTE-BEUVE. 

I HAVE just read a pleasing, sweet, simple, and even touch- 
ing narrative, which rests and elevates the mind, — a narra- 
tive which all should read as I have done. It concerns, once 
more, Mme. de Maintenon ; but Mme. de Maintenon taken 
this time on her practical side, which is least open to discus- 
sion, namely, her work and foundation of Saint-Cyr. M. le duo 
de Noailles had already given a brief but interesting account 
of it in his prelude to the " History of Madame de Mainte- 
non," but M. Th^ophile Lavall^e has now published a com- 
plete and connected " History of Saint-Cyr," which may be 
called definitive. 

In studying the history of Mme. de Maintenon there has 
happened to M. Lavallde what will happen to aU sound but 
prejudiced minds (and I sometimes meet with such) who 
wUl approach this distinguished personage and take pains to 
know her in her habit of life. I will not say that he is con- 
verted to her; that would be an ill-rendering of a simply 
equitable impression received by an upright mind ; but he 
has brought justice to bear on that mass of fantastic and 
odiously vague imputations which have long been in circula- 
tion as to the assumed historical role of this celebrated 
woman. He sees her as she was, wholly concerned for the 
salvation of the king, for his reform, his decent amusement, 




'■^x^eyz. y^'T'OyfyriyCe^ 



oeyrf.c''/^ 



CORKESPONDENCE OF MME. DE MAINTENON. 217 

for the interior life of the royal family, for the relief of the 
people, and doing all this, it is true, with more rectitude than 
enthusiasm, more precision than grandeur. 

On the threshold of Saint-Cyr M. LavaUde has placed a 
portrait of its illustrious founder in which lives again that 
grace of hers, so real, so sober, so indefinable, which, Hable 
as it is to disappear in the distance, should not be overlooked 
when at times her image seems to us too hard and cold. He 
borrows this portrait from a Dame de Saint-Cyr whose pen, 
in its vivacity and colour, is worthy of a S^vign^ : " She had, 
at fifty years of age, a most agreeable tone of voice, an affec- 
tionate air, an open, smiling forehead, natural gesture with 
her beautiful hands, eyes of fire, and motions of an easy 
figure so cordial, so harmonious, that she put into the shade 
the greatest beauties of the Court. ... At a first glance she 
seemed imposing, as if veiled in severity ; the smile and the 
voice dispersed the cloud." 

Saint-Cyr, in its completed idea, was not only a girls' 
school, then a convent for young ladies of rank, a good 
work and recreation for Mme. de Maintenon ; it was some- 
thing more loftily conceived, a foundation worthy in all 
respects of Louis XIV. and his epoch. Under Louis XIV., 
and especially during the second half of his reign, France, 
even in times of peace, was compelled to maintain its 
imposing military attitude and a powerful army of 150,000 
men under arms. Louvois introduced a system of modern 
organization into that great body; though the essentially 
modern base, the regular and equal contribution of aU to 
military service, was still lacking. The nobility, which was, 
and continued to be, the soul of war, found itself for the first 
time subjected to strict rules and obligations which offended 
its spirit and greatly aggravated its burdens. Consequently, 
royalty contracted towards it fresh duties. Louis XIV. saw 



218 COEEESPOKDENCE OF 

this, and had the heart to meet his obligation, — first, by 
founding the H6tel des Invalides, a part of which was 
reserved for old or wounded officers ; secondly, by forming 
companies of Cadets, exercised at the frontier forts, in which 
four thousand sons of nobles were brought up ; and thirdly 
(as soon as Mme. de Maintenon suggested to him the idea), 
by the foundation of the royal house of Saint-Cyr, intended 
for the education of two hundred and fifty noble but impover- 
ished young ladies. The establishment in the succeeding 
century of the Ecole Militaire, was the necessary complement 
of these monarchical foundations ; it added all that was in- 
sufficient in the companies of Cadets. 

The first thought of Saint-Cyr in Mme. de Maintenon's 
mind did not rise to this height. Mme. de Maintenon was 
sincerely religious. She was no sooner drawn from indigence 
by the bounty of the king than she said in her own mind 
that she ought to shed something of that bounty on others as 
poor as she herself had once been. This idea of succouring 
poor young ladies and preserving them from dangers through 
which she herself had passed was a very old and very natural 
thing in her; she regarded it as a debt and an indemnity 
before G-od for her great fortune. Her first step was to 
gather a number of young ladies, for whose education she 
paid, at Montmorency, then at Eueil ; at which latter place 
she gave more development to her good intention. She had 
always had a great taste for bringing up children, for teach- 
ing them, reproving and reprimanding them ; it was one of 
her particular and prominent talents. From Eueil the Institu- 
tion was transferred to Noisy, where it continued to increase, 
Mme. de Maintenon devoting to it every instant she could 
steal from the Court. She soon began to congratulate her- 
self on its success. " Fancy my pleasure," she writes to her 
brother, " when I return along the avenue, followed by the 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 219 

hundred and eighty-four young ladies who are here at the 
present time." 

Mme. de Maintenon was made for this sort of internal 
domestic government. She had the gift and the art of it ; 
she enjoyed the full pleasure of it. That is no reason why 
we should estimate her merit to be less. Because she 
sought repose in action, delights in authority and familiarity, 
and because her self-love (from which we never part) found 
its satisfaction there, we should not the less admire her. An 
ancient poet, Simonides of Amorgos, in a satire against 
women, compares them for their dominant defects, when 
they are bad, to various species of animals (those Ancients 
were not gallant), but when he comes to a wise, useful, 
frugal, industrious, diligent, and fruitful woman he compares 
her to the bee. Mme. de Maintenon, in the bosom of this 
establishment of which she was the soul and the mother, 
ruling the hive in every sense, may be likened to the inde- 
fatigable bee. Such she had been all her life in the houses 
where she lived on a footing of friendship ;" putting them 
into order, cleanliness, decency, spreading a spirit of work 
about her, and at the same time doing honour also to the 
spirit of society and courtesy. What must it therefore have 
been in her own domain, her own foundation, in the hive of 
her predilection, with all her joy and all her pride as queen- 
bee and mother, having at last succeeded in producing the 
perfect ideal that was in her ? 

That ideal was patriotic and Christian both. One day, in 
an interview, the record of which was written down by her 
pious pupils, after telling them how little premeditated and 
foreseen was her great fortune at Court, she said with a 
transport and fire we should scarcely expect of her, but 
which was in her whenever she dwelt on a cherished topic : 

" That is how it was with Saint-Cyr, which became insen- 



220 CORRESPONDENCE OF 

sibly what you see it to-day. I have often told you that I 
do not like new establishments ; it is far better to support 
old ones. And yet, almost without thinking of it, I have 
made a new one. Every one believes that I, my head on my 
pillow, have planned this fine institution ; but it is not so. 
God has brought about Saint-Cyr by degrees. If I had made 
a plan, I should have thought of the worries of execution, 
the difficulties, the details. I should have feared them; I 
should have said : ' All this is far beyond me ; ' courage would 
have failed me. Much compassion for indigent nobility, be- 
cause I have been orphaned and poor myself, and knowledge 
of such a life, made me desire to assist it in my lifetime. 
But, while planning to do the good I could, I never dreamed 
of doing it after my death. That was a second thought, born 
of the first. May this establishment last as long as France 
itself, and France as long as the world ! Nothing is dearer 
to me than my children of Saint-Cyr ; I love their very dust. 
I offer myself, and all my attendants to serve them ; I have 
no reluctance to be their servant if my service will teach 
them to do without that of others. It is to this I tend ; this 
is my passion, this is my heart." 

It was in the year of her marriage (1684) that she applied 
herself, as an inward thank-offering towards Heaven, to per- 
fect the attempt at Noisy, and to give it that first royal 
character which it assumed whoUy after its removal to 
Saint-Cyr. She represented to the king, after a visit he had 
made to Noisy which had pleased him much, that " the 
greater part of the noble families of the kingdom were re- 
duced to a pitiable state, owing to the costs their heads had 
been forced to incur in his service ; that their children 
required support to prevent them from falling into utter 
degradation ; that it would be a work worthy of his piety 
and greatness to make a settled establishment as a refuge 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 221 

for poor young girls of rank throughout the kingdom, where 
they could be brought-up piously to the duties of their con- 
dition." Pfere de La Chaise approved the project ; Louvois 
cried out at the expense; Louis XIV. himself seemed to 
hesitate. "Never did Queen of Trance," he said, "do any-' 
thing like this." It was thus, and thus only, that Mme. de 
Maintenon allowed herself to manifest her secret but effica- 
cious royalty. 

The idea of the foundation of Saint-Cyr was accepted, and 
the king spoke of it to the council of August 15, 1684. 
Two years went by, during which the house was built [by 
Mansart at a cost of 1,200,000 francs], the endowments and 
revenues were settled, and the Constitution was prepared. 
Letters-patent were delivered in June, 1686, and the Com- 
munity was transferred from Noisy to the new domicile 
between the 26th of July and the 1st of August. During 
the succeeding six years it felt its way and made tentative 
essays; these were most brilliant, and even glorious; never 
did Saint-Cyr make more noise in the world than during 
this period before it was firmly seated on its permanent and 
sure foundation. 

Mme. de Maintenon had dreamed of an establishment like 
no other ; where all should go by rule without being bound 
by vows ; where absolutely nothing of the minutiae and petti- 
ness of convents should exist ; maintaining, nevertheless, at 
the same time purity and ignorance of evil, while sharing, 
with prudence and Christian reserve, in the charms of society 
and polished intercourse. Louis XIV., who saw all things 
with a practical eye and in the interests of the State, ap- 
proved of Saint-Cyr having nothing monastic about it, and 
would fain have kept it so. But precautions were needed in 
this first attempt of Mme. de Maintenon to mingle sub- 
stantial qualities, reason, and charm, which she found it 



222 CORRESPONDENCE OF 

impossible to maintain ; to do so all the mistresses and aU 
the pupils needed a wisdom and strength equal to her own. 
To briag up young ladies in a " Christian, reasonable, and 
noble manner " was her object ; but a danger soon appeared 
that nobleness would lead to contempt of humihty, and 
reasonableness to a spirit of reasoning. 

It was during these tentative years, while Saint-Cyr was 
trying its wings and working out its apprenticeship, that 
Mme. de Maiiitenon requested Eacine to compose the sacred 
comedies that were there performed. If " Esther," with the 
worldly consequences and the introduction of the 61ite of 
profane society that then ensued, proved a distraction and 
perhaps an imprudence and fault in Mme. de Maintenon's 
management of the first Saint-Cyr, we feel that we ought 
not to cavil, and no one in the world can really blame her. 
" Esther " has remained, in the eyes of all, the crown of that 
establishment. The details of the composition of that ador- 
able play and its representation are too well known to need 
repetition ; they form one of the most graceful and assuredly 
the most original episodes of our dramatic hterature. Never- 
theless, Mme. de La Fayette, like a sensible woman, and one 
a little jealous, perhaps, of Mme. de Maintenon, found it a 
pretext to say : — 

"Mme. de Maintenon, who is the foundress of Saint-Cyr, 
always busy with the purpose of amusing the king, is con- 
stantly introducing some novelty among the little girls 
brought up in that establishment, of which it may be said 
that it is worthy of the grandeur of the king and of the mind 
of her who invented and who conducts it. But sometimes 
the best-invented things degenerate considerably ; and that 
establishment which, now that we have become devout, is the 
abode of virtue and piety, may some day, without any pro- 
found prophesying, be that of debauchery and impiety. For 
to believe that three hundred young girls can live there uutO. 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 223 

they are twenty years old with a Court full of eager youug men 
at their very doors, especially when the authority of the king 
will no longer restrain them, — to believe, I say, that young 
women and young men can be so near to each other without 
jumping the walls is scarcely reasonable." 

It became necessary, after the success of " Esther," and the 
instigation given to the Court, to make a step backward and 
return to the spirit of the foundation, fortifying it by more 
severe regulations. The danger of the neighbourhood of 
Saint-Cyr to Versailles was indeed great; it was of the 
utmost consequence that Mme. de La Fayette's prophecy 
should not be fulfilled, and that the young ladies of Saint- 
Cyr should in no wise resemble those of M. Alexandre 
Dumas. The lesson that Mme. de Maintenon drew from 
the representations of " Esther," and the invasion of the pro- 
fane was henceforth to say and resay ceaselessly to her 
teachers : " Hide your pupils ; do not let them be seen." 

From the passage of Eacine through Saint-Cyr, and that 
of Fdnelon, there resulted (from the point of view of the 
foundation and its object) a number of unsuitable things in 
the midst of their graces. F^nelon developed a taste for 
refined and subtile piety suited only for choice souls; 
Eacine, without intending it, created a taste for reading, 
poesy, and all such things, the perfume of which is sweet, but 
the fruit not always salutary. Mme. de Maintenon, however 
influenced she might herself be by these tastes, recognized 
with her natural good sense the necessity of finding a 
remedy, and of not allowing those young and tender spirits, 
some of whom were already taken with the new ideas, to go 
farther in that direction. Among the first pupils and mis- 
tresses of Saint-Cyr was a certain Mme. de La Maisonfort, 
a distinguished woman, with an inquiring spirit, fond of 
investigating, and made for quite another career than that 



224 COERESPONDENCE OF 

which she had chosen. She could not bring herself to re- 
nounce the gratifications of her mind and taste or the sensi- 
tiveness of her feelings. Mme. de Maintenon made war upon 
them in a number of very fine letters, which did not conviuce 
her. " How will you bear," she writes to her, " the crosses 
that God wiU send you in the course of your life if a 
Norman or a Picard accent hinders you, or a man disgusts 
you because he is not as sublime as Eacine? The latter, 
poor man, would have edified you could you have seen his 
humility during his illness, and his repentance for his search 
after intellect. He did not ask at such a time for a fashion- 
able confessor ; he saw none but a worthy priest of his own 
parish." That example of the dying Eacine did not work 
successfully. Mme. de La Maisonfort was one of those rare 
persons whom we see from time to time soaring to the 
summit of all the investigations of their epoch, supreme and 
refined judges of works of intellect, oracles and proselytes 
of the opiaions in vogue. She could play charmingly at 
Jansenism with Eacine and M. de Troisville, and distil 
Quietism with Fdnelon, as in the eighteenth century she 
might have fallen in love with David Hume in company 
with the Comtesse de Boufflers, or in the nineteenth she 
would surely have shone in a doctrinaire salon discussiug 
psychology and sestheticism, perhaps even going so far as 
the Fathers of the Church, not without adverting, as she 
passed, to socialism. Mme. de La Maisonfort, much as she 
was liked by Mme. de Maintenon, was, necessarily, dis- 
missed from the Institute of Saint-Cyr. 

Another mind, much better and much safer, that of Mme. 
de Glapion, was slightly affected by the new doctrines. " I 
have perceived," Mme. de Maintenon writes to her, "the 
disgust you feel for your confessors ; you think them vulgar ; 
you want more brilliancy and delicacy ; you wish to go to 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 225 

heaven by none but flowery paths." Mme. de Glapion 
thought the Catechism rather grovelling and a little wanting 
in certain ways ; it seemed to her ridiculous " that the master 
should put questions worthy of a scholar, and that the 
scholar should make the answers of a master." She wished 
the question to be put by the child, who, after receiving the 
answer, should reason upon it and so be led from one in- 
vestigation to another. Mme. de Glapion wished, as we see, 
to introduce the method of Descartes into theology. Mme. 
de Maintenon did not discuss the point ; but she held up 
custom, experience, the impossibility of not stammering in 
such matters. " All those ideas," she wrote to Mme. de 
Glapion, " are the remains of vanity. You do not like things 
common to all the world ; your own mind is lofty, and you 
wish everything to be as lofty. Vain desire ! The most 
learned theology cannot tell you more about the Trinity 
than you find in the Catechism. What you think and feel 
beyond that- is a matter to be sacrificed ; your spirit must 
become as simple as your heart. Employ your mind, not in 
multiplying your disgusts, but in conquering them, in con- 
cealing them until they are conquered, and in making your- 
self like the pleasures of your condition." Mme. de Glapion 
succeeded in doing so. She was the consolation of Mme. de 
Maintenon and her truest inheritor ; together with Madame 
du Pdrou, she maintained at Saint-Cyr that spirit of pre- 
cision and regularity combined with suavity and noble 
manners which distinguished the foundress, until long after 
the latter's death. It may be said, definitively, that the 
persons of the generation at Saint-Cyr who had known and 
enjoyed Eacine and Fdnelon, and who remembered all of 
which they were cured, could alone realize the perfection of 
the education, the grace, and the language of Saint-Cyr; 
after them the essential virtues and the rules were kept, 

15 



226 CORRESPONDENCE OF 

but the charm had flown, perhaps we may even say the 
life. 

During these years of labour and tentative effort Mme. 
de Maintenon never ceased to visit, inspire, and correct 
Saint-Cyr ; she went there once in every two days at least, 
remaining whole days whenever she could. She took part 
in the classes, in the exercises, in the smallest details of the 
establishment, thinking nothing beneath her. " I have often 
seen her," says one of the modest historians quoted by M. 
Lavall^e, " arrive before six in the morning in order to be 
present at the rising of the young ladies, and follow them 
throughout their whole day in the capacity of first instruc- 
tress, in order to judge properly of what should be done and 
regulated. She helped to comb and dress the little ones. 
Often she gave two or three consecutive months to one 
class, observing the order of the day, talking to the class in 
general and to each member in private; reproving one, 
encouraging another, giving to all the means of correcting 
themselves. She had much grace in speaking, as in all 
else that she did. Her talks were lively, simple, natural, 
intelligent, insinuating, persuasive. I should never finish 
if I tried to relate all the good she did to the classes in those 
happy days." Those "happy days," that golden age, was 
the period of the start, the beginning, when all was not yet 
reduced to a code, when a certain liberty of inexperience 
was mingled with the early freshness of virtue. 

Nevertheless, under the wise direction of the Bishop of 
Chartres, Mme. de Maintenon felt the necessity of giving to 
her enterprise less peculiarity than she had at first intended. 
It was decided that the " Dames institutrices," while remain- 
ing true to the special object of their trust, should be 
regular nuns under solemn vows. Warned by the first 
irregularities and the fancies that she saw were dawning. 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 227 

she busied herself in making a rampart for her girls of their 
Constitution and rules. She understood, like all great 
founders, that we can draw from human nature a particular 
and extraordinary strength in one direction only by sup- 
pressing, or at least repressing, in all others. This final 
reform, this transformation of Saint-Cyr from a secular house 
into a regular nunnery, was completed between the years 
1692 and 1694 The grave nature of Mme. de Maintenon 
is imprinted on every line of the little book addressed to 
the "Dames" and entitled "The Spirit of the Institute of 
the Daughters of Saint-Louis." The first suggestion made 
to them is in terms as absolute as can well be imagined ; 
nothing is ever to be changed or modified in their rule under 
any pretext whatsoever ; solidity, stability, immovability is 
the vow and the command of Mme. de Maintenon — and the 
Institute remained faithful thereto to its last hour. The In- 
stitution was not founded, says the book, for prayer, but for 
action, for the education of young ladies ; that is its true aus- 
terity ; that is, as it were, the perpetual prayer, which needs 
only to be fed by other rapid and short prayers repeated 
often in the depths of the heart. "A mixture of prayer 
and action," such was the spirit of the Institute, Mme. 
de Maintenon endeavours to forearm her girls against the 
perils they have already encountered. " Have neither fancy 
nor curiosity to seek for extraordinary reading and ragouts 
d'oraison." "There is a great difference between knowing 
God through learning, by the point of the mind, by the 
subtlety of reason, by the multiplicity of studies, and knowing 
Him through the simple instructions of Christianity." Be- 
tween those lines I seem to read, "Above all, not much 
Eacine and no more Fdnelon." 

Truly, it was a high idea that the Dames de Saint-Louis 
were destined to bring up young ladies to be mothers of fam- 



228 CORRESPONDENCE OF 

ilies and to take part in the good education of their children, 
thus placing in their hands a portion of the future of France 
and of religion. " There is," says Mme. de Maintenon, " in 
this work of Saint-Louis, if properly done in a spirit of true 
faith and a real love of God, the wherewithal to renew 
throughout this kingdom the perfection of Christianity." 

The foundress reminds them in so many words that, being 
at the gates of Versailles as they are, there is no medium 
for them between a very strict or a very scandalous estab- 
lishment. " Make your parlours inaccessible to all super- 
fluous visits. Do not fear to seem a little stern, but do not 
be haughty." She counsels a more absolute humihty than 
she is able to obtain. " Keject the name of Dames [ladies] 
and take pleasure in calling yourselves the Daughters of 
Saint-Louis." She particularly insists on this virtue of 
humility, which is always the weak side of the Institution. 
" You will preserve yourselves only by humihty. You must 
expiate what there is of human grandeur in your founda- 
tion." Eecognizing these conditions of society, Mme. de 
Maintenon gives this advice to a young girl leaving Saint- 
Cyr for the world : " Never appear without the body of your 
gown (meaning in dishabille), and flee from all the other ex- 
cesses common even to girls in the present day, such as too 
much eating, tobacco, hot liquors, too much wine, etc. ; we 
have enough real needs without inventing others so useless 
and dangerous." 

In presence of a world that she knew so well, we must not 
think that Mme. de Maintenon tried to make tender plants, 
fragile women, ingenuously ignorant, with the morality of 
novices ; she had, beyond all other persons, a profound sense 
of reahty. She desired her " Dames " to speak boldly to 
their pupils on the marriage state ; to show them the world 
and its divers conditions such as they are. "Most nuns," 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 229 

she said, " dare not utter the word ' marriage.' Saint Paul had 
no such false delicacy, for he speaks of it very openly," She 
was the first to speak of it as an honourable, necessary, and 
hazardous state. " When your young ladies have entered 
marriage they will find it is not a thing to laugh about. 
You should accustom them to speak of it seriously, even 
sadly, ia a Christian manner ; for it is the state in which we 
have most tribulations, even in the best marriage ; they 
should be shown that three-fourths of all marriages are un- 
happy." As for ceHbacy, to which too many young girls 
might be condemned on leaving the Institution, for lack of a 
dowry (" my greatest need," she says jestingly, " is of sons-in- 
law"), she thiaks it an equally sad state. In general, no 
one has ever had fewer illusions than Mme. de Maintenon. 
Speaking of men, she thinks them rough and hard, " httle 
tender in their love when passion ceases to have sway." As 
for women, she has very fixed views of them, which are but 
moderately flattering. " Women," she says, " only half know 
things, but the httle they do know makes them usually con- 
ceited, disdainful, loquacious, and scornful of sohd informa- 
tion." The education of Saint-Cyr, after its reform, had it 
always been carried out in Mme. de Maintenon's true spirit, 
would not have sinned through too much timidity, weakness, 
and tender grace ; its austerity was only veiled. 

The reform once established at Saiat-Cyr and the first sad 
impression effaced, all became orderly, and joy returned as 
before to a Hfe so uniform and busy. Mme. de Maintenon 
had, as I have said, the gift of education, and she would have 
no sadness about it ; there never can be sadness in what is 
done thoroughly with a full heart in the right way ; at one 
moment or at another, joy, which is but the expansion of 
the soul, returns and cannot cease to flow through actions. 
Mme. de Maintenon relied greatly on recreations to form her 



230 CORKESPONDENCE OF 

pupils pleasantly, to show them their defects and win their 
confidence without seeming to be in search of it. In the 
good she felt she had done at Saint-Cyr she dwelt much on 
the pains she had bestowed on "recreation." "That," she 
said, " is what leads to union and removes partialities ; that 
is what binds the mistresses with the pupds ; a superior 
makes herself liked and warms the hearts of her girls by 
giving them pleasures ; that is the time when edifying things 
can be said without repelling, because we can mingle them 
with gayety ; many good maxims can he thrown out in jest" 
She requires from the mistresses she has trained a talent for 
recreation as well as for teaching. " Make your recreations 
gay and free, and your girls will come to them." 

Louis XIV. at Saint-Cyr appears full of charm, of noble- 
ness always, and sometimes with a certain bonhomie which 
he showed nowhere else. Under great events he intervened 
as king; when it was judged proper to reform the Constitu- 
tion, he re-read it and approved it with his signature ; when 
it becomes necessary to dismiss the recalcitrant mistresses, 
such as Mme. de La Maisonfort and some others, and to use 
for the purpose lettres de cachet, he, knowing that the heart 
of the other mistresses is wrung by this exile of their sisters, 
writes from the Camp at Compifegne to explain his rigour, 
and goes himself with a full cortege to the hall of the Com- 
munity, where he holds a sort of lit de justice both regal and 
paternal. On his return from hunting he frequently came 
to find Mme. de Maintenon in this place of retreat, but never 
without taking time to put on, as he said, " out of respect 
to these ladies, a decent coat." During the wars he remem- 
bers that he has at Saint-Cyr, in those young daughters 
of Saint-Louis and of the race of heroes, "warrior spirits, 
religious souls, good Frenchwomen ; " and he asks for their 
prayers on days of disaster as on those of victory. He 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 231 

knows that they mourn with him, and that his glory is their 
joy. All this new and private side of Louis XIV. is very 
delicately and generously touched by M. Lavall^e ; at certain 
passages we are surprised to find ourselves as much touched 
as the great monarch himself. 

Louis XIV. and Mme, de Maintenon believed in the 
efficacy of prayer, especially that of Saint-Cyr. "Make 
yourselves saints," says the foundress to her daughters 
repeatedly throughout the long series of calamitous wars, — 
"make yourselves saints in order to gain us peace." And 
towards the end, when a ray of victory returned, she mingles 
a sort of gayety with the solemnity of her hope. " It would 
be shameful in our Superior," she writes, " if she could not 
raise the siege of Landrecies by force of prayers : it is for 
great souls to do great things." 

During the last years of Louis XIV. Mme. de Maintenon 
was happy only when she could go to Saint-Cyr, " to hide 
and comfort herself." She said it again and again, under all 
forms and m all tones: "My great consoler is Saint-Cyr." — 
"Vive Saint-Cyr! in spite of its defects one is better here 
than elsewhere in all the world." She had tasted of all and 
was surfeited of all. In spite of her dazzling position, and 
at the very summit, apparently, she was one of those delicate 
natures that are more sensitive to the secret animosities of 
the world than to its grosser offerings. Surrounded at Ver- 
sailles by men who did not like her and by women she de- 
spised, reading their hearts through their self-interested 
homage and cringing baseness, worn-out with fatigue and 
constraint in presence of the king and the royal family, who 
used and abused her, she went to Saint-Cyr to relax, to 
moan, to let fall the mask that she wore perpetually. There 
she was respected, cherished, and obeyed ; when absent, her 
letters read at recreation were the pride of the one who had 



232 COERESPONDENCE OP 

received them and tlie joy of all ; when present, the mis- 
tresses and pupils concerted together to awaken her souvenirs 
and induce her to tell of her beginnings and the singular inci- 
dents of her fortune, — in short, to make her talk of herself ; 
that topic to all of us so restful and so sweet. " We love to 
talk of ourselves," she remarked, " were it even to say harm." 
But she never said harm. 

If it is painful, as she said in after years, to last too long, 
to live in a society of persons who do not know us or the 
life that we have led in former days, who are, in short, of 
another epoch, it is nevertheless very pleasant to retreat to a 
garden bench and find ourselves surrounded by fresh young 
souls, docile in letting themselves be trained, and eager for 
all that we will say to them. Do not let us analyze too 
closely the various sentiments of Mme. de Maintenon at 
Saint-Cyr; suffice it to say that the effect on all who sur- 
rounded her was fruitful and good. 

The language of Saint-Cyr has a tone apart amid that 
period of Louis XIV.; Mme. de Caylus was the mundane 
flower of it. We feel that " Esther " has passed that way, 
and F^nelon equally. The diction is that of Eacine in prose, 
of Massillon, shorter and more sober, — a school, in fact, all 
pure, precise, and perfect (to which belonged the Due du 
Maine) ; a charming source, more sparkling on the side of 
the women, though rather less fertile. At first it promised 
greater things; and to one of the Dames de Saint-Louis 
(Mme. de Chapigny) Mme. de Maintenon was able to write ; 
" I have never read anything so good, so charming, so clear, 
so well arranged, so eloquent, so regulated, in a word, so 
wonderful as your letter." 

At the death of Louis XIV. and under the harsh contrast 
with times so changed, Saint-Cyr passed, almost in an instant, 
to a state of antiquity and royal relic. After Mme. de Main- 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 233 

tenon's death worthy inheritors of her rule continued to 
maintain for a long time the culture of suavity and intelli- 
gence; but the Dames de Saint-Louis were faithful, above 
all, to the intention of their foundress in never making them- 
selves talked of. Eespected by all, little liked by Louis 
XV., who thought them, as was natural, too lofty and too 
worthy of honour, they vanish from sight in the continuance 
of duty and the uniformity of their quiet existence. A letter 
of Horace Walpole, who visits them as an antiquary, another 
from the Chevalier de Boufflers, are the only noticeable testi- 
mony that we have about them in the course of many years. 
When the revolution of '89 broke out, the astonishment in 
that valley so close to Versailles was great, much greater 
than elsewhere. Saint-Cyr had made itself so completely 
immobile in its past that it fell abruptly from Mme. de Main- 
tenon to Mirabeau. 

From that time, after the abolition of the titles of nobility, 
there seemed no uncertainty except as to the precise day on 
which the Institution should perish. Nevertheless, the 
Dames de Saint-Louis made a long and placid resistance, 
which maintained them in their House till 1793 ; they accom- 
plished and verified to the letter Mme. de Maintenon's un- 
conscious prediction when she said : " Your institution can 
never fail so long as there is a king in France," It perished 
on the morrow of the day when there was no king. 

But see and wonder at the linking of fates: Among 
the young ladies who were being educated at Saint-Cyr at 
that date was Marie- Anne de Buonaparte, bom at Ajaccio, 
January 3, 1771, and received at the Institution in June, 
1784. Her brother Napoleon de Buonaparte, an officer of 
artillery, observing that after August 10 the decrees of the 
Legislative Assembly seemed to announce, or rather to con- 
firm, the ruin of the house, went to that house on the morn- 



234 COKRESPONDENCE OF 

ing of September 1, 1792, and took sucli active steps towards 
the mayor of the village and the administrators of Versailles 
that he was enabled on the same day to take away his 
sister (of whom , he was the guardian) and carry her to his 
family in Corsica. He was destined not to return to Saiat- 
Cyr, converted by him into a French Prytaneum, until June 
28, 1805, when as Emperor and master of all France he 
gazed — an equal to an equal — on Louis XIV. 

In 1793 the devastated Saiat-Cyr lost for a time its very 
name, and the ruined village was called Val-Libre. In 1794, 
while persons were converting the church iato a hospital, 
the tomb of Mme. de Maintenon was discovered iu the choir, 
broken open, the coffin violated, and her remaias insulted. 
On that day, at least, she was treated as a queen. 



[Mme. de Maintenon was a voluminous letter- writer ; 
many hundreds of her letters are published, the most inter- 
esting of which are those to the Princesse des Ursins. Her 
style is simple, easy, and dignified ; not graphic nor lifelike ; 
she seems too rounded into her own mind and views to be 
a good general observer ; nor is she guided in her judgment 
of others by a perception of their feelings, unless they are 
reflected by her own. This remark does not apply to the 
Saint-Cyr letters ; in those she is genuine, she is writing on 
a topic that fills her heart and opens it to others. Saint- 
Cyr was an episode in Mme. de Maintenon's life, and as such 
it can be placed here with some completeness. The last 
chapter of this volume contains a few miscellaneous letters 
bearing more especially upon the character and career of the 
Duchesse de Bourgogne, which Sainte-Beuve asserts can only 
be truly known through the letters of Mme. de Maintenon 
to the Princesse des Ursins. 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 235 

The pupils of Saint-Cyr were divided into four classes 
named and distinguished by the colour of their ribbons. 
Class Ked (the youngest) were from seven to ten years of 
age ; class Green from ten to fourteen ; class Yellow from 
fourteen to seventeen ; class Blue from seventeen to twenty. 
Certain young ladies of class Blue were detailed as head 
monitors and wore black ribbons; other monitors selected 
from classes Blue and Yellow wore fiame-coloured ribbons. 
The classes were divided into bands or "families" of ten. 
Each class had a head mistress and three sub-mistresses ; 
there were also two mistresses for the postulants or novices, 
two for the infirmary, others for the various departments of 
the house, and a mistress-general for the whole school. 
These mistresses were called " Dames de Saint-Louis " and 
were under vows ; they were recruited by postulants selected 
from class Blue ; the Superior was chosen by election among 
themselves from their own body. Mme. de Brinon, the first 
Superior, who came with the school from Eueil and Noisy, 
was an Ursuline nun. 

After Mme. de Brinon, the Dames de Saint-Louis who 
were most relied upon by Mme. de Maintenon were : Mme. 
du P^rou, mistress of the novices at twenty years of age, 
afterwards elected many times as Superior; Mme. de 
Fontaines, mistress-general, also frequently elected Superior ; 
and Mme. de Glapion, called the " Pearl of Saint-Cyr," who 
seems to have been Mme. de Maintenon's most trusted 
friend, to whom she made personal confidences. Many 
letters and " talks " addressed to these ladies and others at 
Saint-Cyr have been published, from which those that here 
follow are selected.] 



VIII. 

LETTERS TO THE DAMES DE SAINT-CYR AND OTHERS. 

To M. I'Ahhe Gobelin [her confessor]. 

Chamboed, October 10, 1685. 

I AM very glad that you are satisfied with what you have 
seen at Noisy, and you will give me very great pleasure by 
soins there again before the cold weather : but I would like 
you to confess, or at any rate converse in private with, aU 
those who desire to enter our community. I have sent 
word to Mme. de Brinon to examine them all, and to begin 
nothing for the novitiate until my return. [This refers to 
the selection of mistresses, not pupils, for the establishment 
on its removal to Saint-Cyr.] 

When you go again, I beg you to make a few familiar 
exhortations to the whole community. I approve, with you, 
that these ladies should make a year's trial, but it seems to 
me that it would be more useful if, instead of shutting 
them up to learn the rule and only know their obligations 
by speculation, they were to spend that year in performing 
the duties they will afterwards have to fulfil; above all, 
those of governing and instructing children, which is the 
foundation of the Institution. 

I know weU that this must not be done so exclusively 
that they will have no time for prayer, orisons, silence, acts, 
and conferences ; but a mingling might be made which 
would make known to others, and also to themselves, of 
what they are capable. Concern yourself about this affair, I 
beg of you, inasmuch as you hope it may be useful ; since 



COEEESPONDENCE OE MME. DE MAINTENON. 237 

God and the king have laid it upon me, you ought to help 
me to acquit myself well. 

Humility cannot be preached too strongly, both in public 
and in private, to our postulants ; for I fear that Mme. de 
Brinon may inspire them with a certain grandeur which 
she has herself, and that the neighbourhood of the Court, 
this royal foundation, the visits of the king and mine, may 
give them the idea of being chanoinesses, or important 
persons ; which would not fail to swell their hearts, and 
counteract strongly the good we are seeking to do. All the 
rest is going on, it seems to me, very well ; there is a very 
solid piety in the house ; but we must take a medium course 
between the true splendour of our devotion and the puerilities 
and pettiness of convents, which we have tried to avoid. I 
do not yet know by what name the community will be 
called. If you have read the Constitution you will have 
seen that Mme. de Brinon calls them " Dames de Saint- 
Louis." But this could hardly be, for the king would not 
canonize himself, and it is he who will name them when 
founding them. [They were so named, however.] They 
wish to be called Dames to distinguish them from the young 
ladies ; send me your opinion on this. As for their costume, 
it must be black, of a shape now worn, but without hair, or 
any adornment ; such, I think, as Saint Paul demands for 
Christian widows. Adieu ; write to me, I entreat you, when- 
ever you can do so without inconvenience. 

To Mile, de BuUry [pupil-mistress at Noisy]. 

January, 1686. 

I am very glad to be in communication with you, Made- 
moiselle, and I judge by the of&ce Mme. de Brinon has 
given you that she thinks you have much benevolence and 
exactitude. You can address yourself to me for all your 



238 COERESPONDENCE OF 

wants, asking, however, only for those it is impossible to 
avoid having ; for as you will have everything new at Saint- 
Cyr you must be patient at Noisy. When you write to me 
again, leave rather more interval between your lines, that I 
may correct your orthography on days when I have leisure ; 
the best way of learning to spell is to copy books. Your 
handwriting is very handsome, and I see with pleasure that 
several of the novices write very well. I am now going to 
correct your letter, but I shaU not finish mine without as- 
suring you of my esteem and friendship. 

Take care to notice the difference between my corrections 
and what you have written ; for that is how you will learn 
better. 

To Mme. de Brinon. 

June, 1686. 

They are working hard about Saint-Cyr. Your Constitu- 
tion and rules have been examined ; they have been admired, 
cut down, and added to. Pray God that he will inspire all 
those who touch them. I must inform you of a visit I have 
received from the king this morning ; he is none the better 
for it; still we were delighted to see him out of his room. 
[Louis XIV. had lately undergone a surgical operation.] He 
has corrected the choir of Saint-Cyr, and several other parts ; 
the young ladies are to be placed on four benches as at 
Noisy; therefore we must again change the colours. He 
talked yesterday with the controUer-general about the foun- 
dation, and all wiU be settled soon. One never has all good 
things at once ; proximity to Versailles will give you many 
advantages and as many restraints ; praise God for all things. 
I shall go, please God, to Noisy next Sunday and give you 
an account of all that has then happened. 

Eejoice, my very dear ; you are spending your life for God 
and a great work. 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 239 

To the Dames de Saint-Louis. 

August 1, 1686. 

God having willed to use me to assist in this establish- 
ment which the king undertakes for the education of poor 
young ladies in his kingdom, I think I ought to communi- 
cate to the persons destined to bring them up what my 
experience has taught me about the means of giving a good 
education ; to do that is assuredly one of the greatest aus- 
terities that can be practised, because there is no other with- 
out some relaxation ; whereas in the education of children 
the whole life must be employed upon it. 

When the object is merely to adorn their memories, it 
suffices to instruct them for a few hours a day, — it would 
even be a great imprudence to burden them longer; but 
when we seek to form their reason, waken their hearts, ele- 
vate their minds, destroy their evil inclinations, in a word, 
make them know and love virtue, we must always be at 
work, for at all moments opportunities present themselves. 
We are just as important to pupils in their amusements as 
in their lessons, and we cannot leave them for a moment 
except to their injury. 

As it is not possible that a single person can conduct a 
large number of children, it will be necessary to have several 
mistresses for each class ; but they must act together in great 
union and with the very greatest uniformity of sentiments ; 
their maxims must be alike, and they must endeavour to 
instil them with the same manners. 

In this employment, more than in any other, there is need 
to forget one's self entirely ; or, at least, if any credit is hoped 
for it must only be after success, using the simplest means 
to obtain it. When I say that we must forget ourselves 
I mean that we must aim only to make ourselves understood 
and thus convince ; eloquence must be abandoned, for that 



240 CORKESPONDENCE OF 

may attract the admiration of listeners ; it is even well to 
play with children on certain occasions and make them love 
us in order to acquire a power over them by which they will 
profit. But we must make no mistake as to the means we 
may use to make ourselves loved ; none but upright inten- 
tions will draw down the blessing of God. 

We should think less of adorning their minds than of 
forming their reason ; this system, it is true, makes the 
knowledge and ability of the mistresses less apparent ; a 
yoimg girl who knows a thousand things by heart will shine 
in company and gratify her relatives more than one whose 
judgment has been formed, who knows how to be silent, 
who is modest and reserved, and is in no haste to show her 
cleverness. 

It is right to let them sometimes follow their own wiU 
in order to know their inchnations, to teach them the differ- 
ence between what it good, what is bad, and what is in- 
different. I think that all persons who give themselves 
the trouble to read this will know as well as I what is 
meant by indifferent things. Give them, for instance, one 
companion in place of another; a walk in one direction 
rather than in another, a game or other trifles, to let them 
see we are only mistresses when we must be, and that they 
might be so themselves in all things if they were reasonable. 
A companion may be dangerous, a walk may have some 
impropriety, a game may be out of place ; but I wish that 
in refusing them they be told the reason, as far as prudence 
will allow, trying always to grant them frequently what 
they want, in order to refuse what is bad with a firmness 
that never yields. It is wonderful how much such methods 
make governing easy and absolute. 

It is good to accustom them to have nothing granted to 
importunity. 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 241 

You must be implacable on vices, and punish them either 
by shame or by chastisements, which must be very rigorous, 
but as rare as possible. 

Guard yourselves from the dangerous principle of some 
persons who, out of a scrupulous fear that God will be of- 
fended, avoid all occasions when children's inclinations can 
appear ; we cannot know too much about them in order to 
inspire a horror of vice and a love of virtue, in which we 
should confirm the young by giving them principles which 
will prevent their going wrong through ignorance. We 
should study their incMnations, observe their tempers, and 
follow their little contests in order to train them in every 
way. For experience shows us only too well how often 
faults are committed without knowing it, and how many 
persons fall into crime without being more wicked than 
others who live innocently. 

They should be taught all the delicacies of honour, integ- 
rity, discretion, generosity, and humanity ; and virtue should 
be described to them as being both beautiful and agreeable, as 
it is. A few Httle stories suited to this purpose will be very 
proper and useful, — amusing, yet all the while instructing 
them ; but they must be convinced that if virtue does not 
have religion for its basis it is not solid, and God will not 
sustain it, but will rebuke such pagan and heroic virtues, 
which are only the result of susceptible pride insatiable for 
praise. 

It is not necessary to make long disquisitions on such 
matters ; it is better to place them as occasions occur. 

You must make yourselves esteemed by the children; 
and the only means of doing so is not to show them defects ; 
for it is hard to believe how intelHgent they are in perceiv- 
ing them. The study to appear perfect in their eyes is of 
great utility to ourselves. 

16 



242 COREESPONDENCE OP 

Never scold them from ill-humour, and never give them 
reason to think there are times more favourable than others 
to obtain what they want. Treat fine natures with affection, 
be stern with bad ones, but harsh with none. Make them 
like the presence of their mistresses through amiable kind- 
ness, and let them do before you exactly what they would 
do if left alone. 

We should enter into the amusements of children, but 
never adapt ourselves to them by childish language or 
puerile ways ; and as they cannot be too reasonable, or too 
soon be made so, we should accustom children to reason 
from the moment they can talk and understand, — all the 
more because they will never reject the healthy amuse- 
ments we give them. 

The external accomplishments of foreign languages and 
the thousand other things with which young ladies of qual- 
ity are expected to be adorned have their inconveniences; 
for such studies are apt to take time which might be more 
usefully employed. The young ladies of the house of Saint- 
Louis ought not to be brought up, more than can be helped, 
in that way ; because, bemg without property, it is not well to 
uplift their hearts and minds in a manner so little suitable 
to their fortunes and state of life. 

But Christianity and reason, which are all that we wish to 
inspire, are equally good for princesses and paupers ; and if 
our young ladies profit by what I believe they will be taught, 
they will be capable of sustaining all the good and all the 
evU that God may be pleased to send them. 

To Mme. du Perou. 

October 25, 1686. 
I am convinced of your zeal and your capacity ; and both 
must be employed for our dear house. It is true that I am 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 243 

very keen for all its interests ; I think I sometimes go as 
far as impatience ; but it seems to me that there are reasons 
why we should hasten, and use well the favourable moment 
in which we now are. God knows that I never thought to 
make so grand an establishment as yours, and that I had no 
other view than to do a few good works during my lifetime ; 
not feeling myself obliged to do more, and thinking that 
there were already too many nunneries. The less part I 
had in this plan, the more I see in it the will of God ; which 
makes me love it much more than if it were my own work. 
God has led the king to found this school, as you know, 
although he does not like new institutions. 

It is true that just as much as I should have trembled in 
governing Saint-Cyr had it been my own work, so much on 
the other hand do I find myself emboldened by the sense 
that it is done by the will of God, and that that same will 
has laid this duty upon me. Therefore I can say to you 
with truth that I regard it as the means God has granted 
me for my salvation, and that I would sacrifice my life with 
joy to make it glorious. What is now urging me on, some- 
times perhaps too eagerly, is the desire I have that all should 
be firmly established before the death of Mme. de Brinon, 
my own, and that of the Abb^ de Gobelin, so that the spirit 
of the house may always last, in spite of oppositions it may 
meet with in the future. You will never have an abler or 
more commanding Superior than Mme. de Brinon, a friend 
more zealous for the house than I, a director more saintly 
than the one you have now. 

We have, moreover, all authority, temporal and spiritual, in 
our hands. The king and the bishop [Godet of Chartres] 
are ready to do all that we desire ; it is for us to put things 
in that state of perfection in which we desire them to re- 
main forever. 



244 COERESPONDENCE OF 

In examining your girls [for the novitiate] seek for true 
piety, an upright mind, the liking they may have for the 
Institute, the desire they have to he useful, their attachment 
to the rules, their spirit of community, their detachment 
from the world ; these are the principal things for a Dame 
de Saint-Louis. As for tempers a little too quick, remember 
that we all have the vices and virtues of our temperament ; 
that which makes us hasty makes us active, vigilant, eager 
for the success of what we undertake ; that which makes us 
gentle makes us nonchalant, lazy, indifferent, slow, insensi- 
ble; piety rectifies both in the long run, and surely that 
is the essential thing. Who can be hastier than Mme. de 
Brinon and I ? but do you love us less ? You will tell me, 
perhaps, and with reason, that subordiaates suffer from such 
tempers ; to that I reply that everybody has to suffer ; and, 
after all, you will only have such Superiors as you elect 
yourselves. But while I excuse hasty people (from self-love 
perhaps), I exhort you to correct that disposition as much as 
you possibly can in your novices. 

You can show what I write to you to whom you please ; 
would to God it were good enough that aU might draw some 
profit from it. 

To a young lady in class Blue. 

December, 1690. 
I have heard of your disobedience to Mme. de Labarre, and 
I have stopped the punishment they intended to give you. 
How can you suppose that we should allow such rebellion ? 
What exception could there be to our rules ? Do you think 
yourself necessary because you have a fine voice ? Can you 
know me and yet think that the representation of " Athalie " 
goes before the regulations established at Saint-Cyr? No, 
certainly not ; and you will leave the establishment if I hear 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 245 

anything more about you. Submit, if you wish to remain ; 
but, if you wish to leave, it will be more honourable to you to 
do so by agreement with me than to get yourself dismissed. 
You are lax and cold towards God ; it is that which makes 
you fall into all these faults. Eeflect, I beg of you, on what 
you might hope of yourself on the occasions which you 
will find to fail. You are becoming grown-up ; this is the 
time to make serious reflections. It is for God, my dear 
child, to touch your heart, but it is for us to rule your con- 
duct. You will be very unhappy if it is good only externally. 
I wished to give you this advice before punishing you, and I 
hope that you will give me the joy of seeing you profit by 
it ; I ask this of you with all my heart ; for I am as sorry 
to have to treat you with rigour as I am resolved to establish 
in your class an absolute obedience to the regulations. 

To Mme. de Fontaines. 

September 20, 1691. 
The pain I feel about the daughters of Saint-Cyr can only 
be relieved by time and by a total change in the education 
we have given them up to this time. It is very just that I 
should suffer because I have contributed to the harm more 
than any one ; I shall be happy if God does not punish me 
more severely. My pride has been in everything concerning 
the establishment ; and its depth is so great it carries the 
day against my own good intentions. God knows that I 
wanted to establish virtue at Saint-Cyr, but I have built on 
sand, — not having that which alone can make a firm founda- 
tion. I wanted that the girls should have intelligence, that 
their hearts should be uplifted, their reason formed. I have 
succeeded in my purpose : they have intelligence, and they 
use it against us ; their hearts are uplifted, and they are 
prouder and more haughty than is becoming in the greatest 



246 CORRESPONDENCE OE 

princesses — speaking as the world thinks ; we have formed 
their reason, and we have made them disputatious, presump- 
tuous, inquisitive, bold, etc. Thus it is that we succeed when 
the desire of excelling [shining] makes us act. A simple, 
Christian education would have made good girls, out of 
whom we could have made good wives and good nuns ; we 
have made leaux-esprits, whom we ourselves who made them 
cannot endure : there is our blame, in which I have a greater 
share than any one. 

Let us come to the remedy ; for we must not be discour- 
aged. I have already proposed some to Balbien [Mme. de 
Maintenon's waiting-maid mentioned in " Saint-Simon " as 
!N'anon]. They may seem to you rather petty, but I hope, 
by the grace of God, they will not be without effect. As 
many little things have fomented pride, so many little 
things will subdue it. Our girls have been too much con- 
sidered, too petted, too often deferred to. They must now 
be ignored in their classes ; they must be made to keep the 
rules of the day ; and little else must be talked of. They 
should not be forced to feel that I am angry with them ; it 
is not their grief that I want; I am more to blame than 
they ; I desire only to repair by another line of conduct the 
harm that has been done. The best girls have done more to 
show me the excess of pride which we must now correct 
than the bad ones ; I have been more alarmed at seeing their 

self-conceit and the arrogance of Miles, de , de , and 

de than at all that I have heard of the insubordinate 

members of the class. These are girls of good intentions who 
wish to be nuns, but with that desire they have a language 
and manners too proud and haughty to be tolerated at Ver- 
sailles among young ladies of the highest rank. You see by 
this that the evil has sunk into their natures, so that they are 
not themselves aware of it. Pray God, and make others pray 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 247 

that He will change their hearts, and give us all humility. 
But, madame, do not discourse to them too much. All Saint- 
Cyr is turning to discourses ; much is said there just now of 
simplicity ; they seek to define it, to comprehend it, to discern 
what is simple and what is not ; and then in practice they 
say : " Out of simplicity, I take the best thing ; out of simpli- 
city I praise myself ; out of simplicity I want something at 
table that is far away from me." Truly, this is turning into 
ridicule all that is most serious. We must now correct in 
our girls that turn for witty satire which I myself have 
given them, and which I now see to be opposed to simplicity ; 
it is a refinement of pride that says in jest what it dares not 
say openly. But, once more, do not talk to them of pride 
or satire ; we must destroy all that without fighting it, by 
stopping the use of it ; their confessors will talk to them of 
humihty better than we. Do not preach to them, — try that 
silence that I have so long urged upon you; it will have 
more effect than all our words. 

I am very glad that Mile, de has at last humbled her- 
self ; let us praise God for it, but do not praise her ; it is 
another of our faults that we have praised too much. Do not 
irritate their pride by too frequent corrections ; but when 
you are obhged to make one, do not admire the girl who is 
corrected for taking it properly. 

As for you, my dear daughter, I know your intentions ; 
you have, it seems to me, no personal blame in all this ; it is 
only too true that the great harm has come from me ; but 
take care, with the others, to have no part in that pride 
which has been so firmly established everywhere that we 
are scarcely conscious of it. "We wanted to avoid the petti- 
ness of certain convents, and God has punished our assump- 
tion. There is no house in the world more in need of 
external and internal humility than ours: its situation so 



248 COEEESPONDENCE OF 

near the Court, its grandeur, its wealth, its nobleness, the air 
of favour that pervades it, the attentions of a great king, the 
care of a person of influence, the example of vanity and 
manners of the world which she gives you in spite of her- 
self by force of habit, — all these dangerous traps ought to 
make us take measures quite the contrary of those we have 
hitherto taken. Let us bless God for having opened our 
eyes. It is he who inspires your piety; it will daily in- 
crease ; but estabhsh it solidly. Let us not be ashamed to 
retract ; to change our fashions of acting and speaking ; and 
let us ask our Lord fervently to change our hearts within us, 
to take from our house the spirit of loftiness, of satire, of 
subtlety, of curiosity, and of freedom in judging and giving 
our opinion about everything, and of meddling in the duties 
of others at the risk of wounding charity. Let us pray also 
that He will take from us that prevailing over-delicacy, that 
impatience of small inconveniences; silence and humihty 
are the best means. Show my letter to our Mother Superior ; 
all must be in common among us. 

I 
To Mme. de Radouay (mistress-general of the classes). 

Marly, 1692. 

Do not be disturbed by the complaints made to you [by 
the mistresses] of your children; think only of training 
their hearts to piety, integrity, simplicity, candour, sincerity, 
honesty, and courage, and you will one day see, if it pleases 
God, that they are far removed from the children you now 
write of. 

Do not notice all the faults of the Yellows and Blues ; 
have patience ; all will come right in time, and the sisters 
will be better convinced by their own experience than by 
anything we can say to them. As for what you have done 
about silence, nothing could be better. I only beg you, as I 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 249 

have already said, to preacli it without expecting to fully 
obtain it. You will never succeed in keeping sixty girls 
together without a word from one of them. You must see 
things as they are, and not attack a small infringement hke 
a vice. Eegularity and silence are necessary for the quiet, 
the order, and the propriety of the house ; but the essential 
part of the education of your girls is that they shall bear 
with them and always practise the virtues I have named to 
you. Those virtues do not show to persons who merely see 
a march in the choir or a silent recreation in the class-room ; 
but it is this sincerity of purpose that I ask of you ; God will 
reward it magnificently. 

I should be afraid to write all this to certain of the Dames, 
who, with very good intentions, pass from one extreme to 
the other at the least word said to them, and who on the 
strength of this letter would cease to attend to regularity 
or silence ; but I hope that you at least will understand me 
better. 

I have been without news from Saint-Cyr for several days. 
The king is well, I am very well, but the Prince of Orange 
is ill. 

To one of the mistresses. 

Maelt, 1692. 

When you wish to know anything, madame, it is better 
that I should write it to you than say it, because it is then 
impossible that either of us should forget it. I am at your 
service for whatever you want ; and I will now repeat what 
I think I have already said to you. 

You must punish as seldom as you possibly can, and for 
this reason you must not see all faults. But when you can- 
not ignore those you have seen, you must not pardon them 
if they are considerable, or if they have already been 
pardoned. It is now a question of bringing the young ladies 



250 COREESPONDENCE OF 

to a footing of perfect obedience. To this you must apply 
yourself seriously, without, however, searching out those 
faults that you could ignore. . . . 

Get it into your mind, once for aU, that there are few cir- 
cumstances in life without their drawbacks, and that you 
must choose the side that has the least. You must also dis- 
tinguish clearly those that disturb order and the public good ; 
that is what we must especially avoid in communities. 

Yes, madame, you will have the necessary courage if you 
ask it of God, if you act in His presence and for Him solely ; 
or I should better say, if you forget yourself entirely, without 
thinking whether you will be loved or hated. If you punish 
without prejudice, without listening to your repugnances or 
your inclinations, if you can think that you please God, 
whatever you do, and are conscious that you seek good only 
without respect to persons, — if you govern with those dis- 
positions, as I do not doubt you will, our Lord will govern 
with you. Pray to Him, I implore you, for those who are 
guiding you. 

To Mile. d'AuhignS [her niece, a pupil at Saint-Cyr]. 

Chantillt, May 11, 1693. 

I love you too well, my dear niece, not to tell you all that 
I think will be useful to you, and I should be very lacking 
to my obligations if, being whoUy occupied with the young 
ladies of Saint-Cyr, I neglected you whom I regard as my 
own daughter. [The child was only nine years old at the 
time this letter was written.] I do not know if it is you 
who inspire the pride your companions have, or whether it 
is they who have given theirs to you ; however that may be, 
rely upon it that you will be intolerable to God and men if 
you do not become more humble and more modest than you 
are. You take a tone of authority which will never be 



MME. DE MAmTENON. 251 

becoming in you, happen what may. You think yourself a 
person of importance because you are fed and lodged in a 
house where the king comes daily; but the day after my 
death neither the king nor all those who caress you now will 
look at you. If that should happen before you are married, 
you will have a very poor country gentleman for a husband 
because you are not rich ; and if during my life you should 
marry a greater seigneur, he would only consider you, after 
my death, as long as your humour was agreeable to him ; 
you would be valued only for your gentleness, and of that 
you have none. Your mignonne [term used in those days 
for an attendant on girls] loves you too much, and does not 
see you as other people see you. I am not prejudiced against 
you, for I love you much, but I cannot see without pain the 
pride that appears in all you do. You are assuredly very dis- 
agreeable to God ; consider His example. You know the 
Gospel by heart ; and what good will such learning do you 
if you are lost like Lucifer ? Eemember that it is solely the 
fortune of your aunt that has made that of your father and 
yourself. You allow persons to pay you a respect that is not 
due to you; you will not suffer being told that it is only 
paid on my account ; you would like to raise yourself above 
me, so proud and lofty are you. How do you reconcile that 
puffed-up heart with the pious devotion in which you are 
being brought up ? Begin by asking of God humility, con- 
tempt for yourself, — who are, in truth, nothing at all, — and 
the esteem of your neighbours. I speak to you as if you were 
a great girl because you have a very advanced mind ; but I 
would consent with all my heart to your having less, and 
therefore less presumption. 

If there is anything in my letter that you do not under- 
stand your mignonne will explain it to you. I pray Our 
Lord to change you so that I may on my return find you 



252 COERESPONDENCE OE 

modest, humble, timid, and putting into practice what you 
know to be right. I shall love you much more. I conjure 
you by the affection you have for me to work upon yourself 
and to pray daily for the graces of which you are in need. 

To M. I'AhhS de Bisacier [special confessor at Saint-Cyr]. 

September, 1694. 

The mother of the Demoiselles de has been beheaded ; 

I shall always reproach myself for not following up that 
case with a care which might have saved the life of the 
poor creature. God has disposed otherwise. I am awaiting 
you before announcing this sad news to the two daughters. 
I am requested to consult the king on sending them away 
from Saint-Cyr. He does not understand any more than I do 
why this crime should be visited on the children, and I conjure 
you to reflect still further upon it with the Bishop of Chartres 
and the Abb^ Tiberge. They say that the Jesuits would not 
admit to their Society in a like case, nor the nuns of the Visit- 
ation either. If that spirit comes from Saint Ignatius or Saint 
Francois de Sales, I submit to it without repugnance, but if 
it is only the effect of human wisdom or the harshness of 
communities, I desire with all my heart to escape it in this 
case. The father of M. de Luxembourg was beheaded ; but 
they confided to the latter the person of the king and his 
armies. We saw M. de Eohan die upon the scaffold some 
twenty years ago, and all his family were in offices round 
the king and queen, and receiving condolences on the event 
without its entering the head of a single courtier to speak 
against them. What ! shall worldly decency go farther than 
charity ? Shall we fail to give our pupils the true ideas they 
ought to have on all things ? I am told that in the classes 
these girls will meet with less respect and be exposed to re- 
proaches : I should put that act among the most punishable 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 253 

of faults ; girls with proper hearts would be incapable of it ; 
the others must be corrected. . . . 

I say all this for justice, and from the desire I have that 
our girls should have their minds and their hearts right, for 
it may very well be that the girls in question are not 
suitable for us. I do not need, monsieur, to commend them 
to your charity ; I pray God to console and bless them. 

To Mme. du Perou. 

1696. 

Madame, I have always forgotten to ask you why they 
continue to serve the young ladies with rye bread in days 
when wheat is no longer dear. It was very proper that 
they should learn by their own experience the inequahty of 
the riches of the world, and take some share in the public 
sufferings ; but they ought to be put back into the usual 
system when there is no reason to keep them out of it. The 
tendency of communities is to retrench on food, rather than 
on commodities or embelhshments which they ought to go 
without. As our nourishment is simple and frugal, nothing 
should touch it. The girls are murmuring in their hearts 
much more bitterly than they dare say. I try in everything 
to help you with my experience. 

Do not think, either for yourself or for your girls, that 
those who do not feel dull have no need of relaxation. 
Serious occupations wear upon us, little by little, without our 
perceiving it until too late ; that is why, my dear daughter, 
you ought to prevent such a result by diversions of the 
mind that are innocent. Take care only that nothing passes 
contrary to religious modesty, nothing worldly, nothing 
excited or excessive ; but that gentleness, holy liberty, 
simplicity, charity, modesty reign in everything. I wish no 
dancing. 



254 COREESPONDENCE OF 

To Mme. de Badouay. 

October 15, 1696. 

Profit, I conjure you, for yourself and for others by the 
experience you have just had of quinine. Nothing is more 
unreasonable than notions; our age assumes them about 
everything ; they decide all things ; there is no one who does 
not seek to be a doctor, or meddle in the direction of affairs ; 
all have decided opinions ; women pretend to judge of books, 
sermons, governments, of the spiritual and the bodily; 
modesty is no longer in usage. No one ever repHes now, 
" I do not know," or " It is not for me to judge ; " no one is 
baffled ; the place of knowledge and judgment is filled by 
intolerable presumption, for never were persons more igno- 
rant. Do not have, or allow that quality in your midst. 
Say out, simply, that you do not know. Let yourselves be 
guided by confessors, doctors, superiors, magistrates, the 
king ; inspire that modesty in your novices, to whom this 
letter is as necessary as to you. 

I am delighted that the Eeds desire to please me ; what 
pleasure if at my next visit you can teU me they have all 
been good. They will obtain that happiness if they ask it 
of God and serve Him with their whole heart. 

To Mme. de Fontaines [now the Superior]. 

December, 1696. 
Complaint is made, my dear daughter, that you do not 
give enough little comforts to the classes. You want me 
to speak to you freely and I shall do so. I think it true 
that you are too stern about expenses and all sorts of 
economy. Consider, I beg of you, that the most important 
thing in your case is not to save a thousand francs more or 
less (and the favours asked of you would not cost more than 
that), but to firmly establish and cause to be liked your rule 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 255 

as Superior ; and you can do it in no better way than by 
entering, not only into the just needs of your community, 
but even into some wants that are not altogether necessary. 
When certain of the mistresses ask me for ribbon for use 
in representing the tragedies, and I give it, do you not think 
that I do better than if I replied dryly that my money 
would be better employed in giving alms ? Am I not doing 
a much greater good by this compliance to the mistresses of 
the different classes ? They are pleased ; and it is just to 
soften their labour ; we make their young ladies like them, 
and so dispose them to receive instruction; the latter will 
open their hearts themselves to those who grant them these 
attentions. Nevertheless, you refuse them twenty pairs of 
gloves, or you deduct those gloves from the next distribu- 
tion ; do you not see, my dear daughter, that to save ten 
francs you have vexed sixteen of your mistresses ? Saint- 
Frangois de Sales sent Mme. de Chantal word as to a law- 
suit she had gained which he did not wish her to undertake. 
" This time," he said, " you have been more just than kind ; 
I would rather have you more kind than just." Apply those 
words to yourself, and be more kind than saving, more 
careful than thrifty ; make yourself beloved, and in that way 
you will do a solid good to the estabhshment. Keep your 
negatives for all that is against the regulations ; never relax 
there, but even there you can make answers that will not be 
harsh by saying : " The Constitution forbids that ; the rules 
point to this," and so on. But for details within those hnes, 
I beg you to give ear to what the mistresses request, lean- 
ing to compliance rather than severity. I pray God to give 
you the courage of which you have need to fulfil your duties, 
and an extension of charity and perception which will make 
you prefer great duties to little ones. 



256 COERESPONDENCE OF 

To Mme. de Perou. 

1699. 

We should have an equitable not a superficial charity. 
For instance, we should rid ourselves of a girl who would be 
capable of corrupting others, without listening to the senti- 
ments of a weak compassion which would lead us to say : 
" But she is so poor ; what will her family do ? she will be 
ruined in the world." Better that she should be lost alone 
than ruin your whole establishment. For certain defects 
which cannot injure others and only make you suffer your- 
self, I exhort you to have infinite patience ; how many we 
have known who were bad and are now among our best 
girls ! I was listening to one the other day with great 
pleasure as she told me with humility and simplicity the 
evil inclinations that might have led her to bad ways, and 
yet she has done marvels. Such cases ought to encourage 
you and make you see that if there are some pains in edu- 
cating there are also many grounds for consolation. 

I entreat you to tell my sister de Eiancourt that she must 
give good nourishment to the sick, take great care that they 
rest well, warm them in their chills, and dry them if they 
perspire. But easy chairs in which they lounge all day, 
loose dressing-gowns without belts like fashionable women, 
soups without bread crumbs, such things, I say, are delica- 
cies out of all proportion with the illnesses I have known 
you have, so far. Bead her this part of my letter, I beg of 
you, and bind her conscience to establish the infirmary on 
the footing of religious charity but with none of that laxness 
which ought not to be allowed among your young ladies. 

To Mme. de la Eozieres [the sub-mistress of a class]. 

October 3, 1699. 
I must, my dear daughter, repair by a letter the wrong I 
did in not seeing you in private when I saw the others. My 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 257 

want of leisure makes me fail in many things I ought to do, 
and want to do. It is a great pity to have for mother a 
person who is always moving about, off hunting, or at cards, 
when she ought to be talking with her daughters. You are 
too good to put up with me and my many defects, but I 
assure you that I am well punished, and there is nothing 
in the pleasures I speak of to console me for not going 
oftener to Saint-Cyr. 

To Mme. de Perou. 

February 23, 1701. 
It has seemed to me as if you desired that I should write 
to you on all things that might be of consequence to your 
estabhshment. I place in that rank the representations of 
the beautiful tragedies I caused to be written for you,^ and 
which may in the future be imitated. My object was to 
avoid the miserable compositions of nuns, such as I saw at 
Noisy. I thought it was judicious and necessary to amuse 
children ; I have always seen it done in places where they 
are collected ; but I wished while amusing those of Saint-Cyr 
to fill their minds with fine things of which they would 
not be ashamed when they entered the world ; I wished to 
teach them to pronounce properly ; to occupy them in a way 
that would withdraw them from conversations with one 
another, and especially to amuse the elder ones, who from 
fifteen to twenty years of age get rather weary of the life at 
Saint-Cyr. These are my reasons for still continuing the 
representations, provided your superiors [meaning the 
Bishop of Chartres and the confessors] do not forbid them. 
But you must keep them entirely confined to your own 
house, and never let them be seen by outside persons under 

1 " Esther, " and " Athalie," of Eacine ; "Absalon " and " Jonathas," 
by Ducbe; " Jephte," by the Abbe Boyer. 

17 



258 COEEESPONDENCE OF 

any pretext whatever. It is always dangerous to allow men 
to see well-made girls who add to the charms of their person 
by acting well what they represent. Therefore do not, I 
say, permit the presence of any man, whoever he may be, 
poor, rich, young or old, priest or secular, — I would even say 
a saint, if there were such on earth. All that can be al- 
lowed, if one of the superiors [priests] insists on judging the 
performance, is to let the youngest children act a Dlay before 
him — as, in fact, we have already done. 

To Mme. de Gruel [head mistress of the Eeds]. 

March, 1701. 

You admire too much what I do for your class, but never- 
theless, such as it is you do not imitate it enough. You talk 
to your children with a stiffness, a gloominess, a brusque- 
ness which will close their hearts. They should feel that 
you love them, that you are grieved by their faults for 
their own sake, and that you are full of hope that they will 
correct themselves ; you should take them expertly, en- 
courage them, praise them, in a word, employ all means 
except roughness — which will never lead any one to God. 
You are too rigidly of a piece, very proper to live with 
saints, but you ought to know how to adapt yourself, to be 
every sort of person, and especially a kind mother to a large 
family, all of whom are equally dear to her. 

I have always forgotten to tell you that I noticed several 
days ago, in hearing you explain the Gospel, that you seem 
to me to embrace too many topics ; children want but few. 
You also talk too much ; I think you had better make the 
children talk more, so as to see if they have listened and 
understood. I likewise think that you are too eloquent. 
For example, you said to them that they must make an eter- 
nal divorce from sin ; that is true, and well said, but I doubt 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 259 

if there are three girls in your class who know what a 
divorce is. Be simple, and think only of making yourself 
intelligible. 

I think, my dear daughter, that you will consider it right 
that I should give you my opinion from time to time on 
what I see you do. Inspire your children, I conjure you, 
with the practices of piety, with a horror of sin, a sense of 
God's presence, and a docility in being led by you. I beg 
you also to guide them according to the spirit of the Church ; 
as for this, I have written a little compendium which you 
must follow. 

Adieu, my dear daughter. 

To Mme. de Montalemlert [head mistress of the Blues]. 

October 19, 1703. 

Your arrangements are all that could be wished, my dear 
daughter ; we cannot thank God enough for what He does for 
you by means of your saintly and able confessor. I tell 
you again, my joy would be perfect if I could see you walk- 
ing as straight without that great support ; but I will have 
confidence in God and beheve that the provision of strength 
you are making now will nourish you for the future. 

The affection you feel for your girls will never harm you 
if you love them all equally ; preferences would be ruinous 
to the class and to yourself ; you must have none, except for 
the very best girls, and such preferences ought not to offend 
the others. 

Why do you not ask of your class all that you know I 
should ask of them ? My greatest honour at Saint-Cyr is 
that Saint-Cyr can do without me ; what I should now do 
would be nothing ; what there was of good in me has 
passed to you, my dear children, and will ever remain ia the 
Institution. I desire with all my heart that it may be a 



260 COKRESPONDENCE OF 

school of virtue, and that you may live there as angels while 
corruption increases daily in the world. What would I not 
give to have you all see as I do how long and wearisome our 
days are here at Court; I do not mean only for those 
persons who have outlived the follies of youth, but for youth 
itself, which is dying of ennui because it wants to amuse 
itself continually and finds nothing to content that insatiable 
desire for pleasure. I toil at the oar to amuse Mme. la 
Duchesse de Bourgogne. It would not be thus if they 
sought only to please God, to work and sing His praises, as 
with you ; the peace which that kind of life puts into the 
heart is a solid and lasting joy. Adieu ; this subject would 
lead me far. I write to none but you to-day ; assure the 
dear sisters that the healths about which they inquire are 
very good. 

To Mme. de Bouju [head mistress of the YeUows]. 

January 4, 1704. 

Yes, my dear daughter, you must use simple language; 
a nun should rule that as she rules her eyes, her walk, and 
all her actions. We should feed on Holy Scripture, but not 
use its terms more than is necessary to make it understood. 
M. Fagon is often praised because he talks medically in so 
simple and intelhgible a way that we think we see the 
things that he explains ; a village doctor talks Greek. Ex- 
plain to your girls what you find in the books you read to 
them; but tell them always they are never to use those 
words. In this our Mother and I are not aiming at any one 
in particular, only at the names you introduce ; and from 
them we pass to learned words, in short, to that which may 
be called the pedantic spirit. We cannot endure this in 
learned people ; how much more displeasing is it in ignorant 
ones and particularly in those of our sex ! We should do 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 261 

very wrong, my dear daughter, to tell you this in a round- 
about way ; because, by the favour God has done you, we 
can say to you all without reserve. Ask Him, I beg of you, 
to give to me the same grace. 

To Mme. du Perou. 

FoNTAiNEBLEAu, October 1, 1707. 

I think as you do about Saint-Cyr ; and whatever reasons 
I may have to open the door to certain persons sometimes, I 
am always enchanted when they go out of it, and I never 
love Saint-Cyr so well as when it is its natural self. My 
sister de Eadouay will tell you if that is flattery ; she tells 
us many truths in a jesting way, and I should like, as she 
advises, to prepare you for the change you will some day 
feel ; but I find difficulty in doing so, and I fall back on 
what wisdom has told us : " Sufficient unto the day is the 
evil thereof." 

My intention was to answer all letters with my own 
hand, but I have so many things to do that I must hus- 
band myself from early morning in order to be able to go 
on tiU. night; my sister de Fontaines would choke at the 
recital of my days ; my restraints extend to everything. 
The letter of my sister de Jas has furnished me with many 
subjects of rejoicing in the account she gives me of her 
interior and her exterior; but those are subjects of con- 
fession,- — they must not be answered. Our good mistress 
of the novices goes quietly to her ends; she asks me to 
send her a " Conversation ; " if she saw me, she would not 
ask it. My poor mind is dragged apart by four horses; 
it is not yet eleven o'clock, but my head feels bound with 
iron, and yet I must sustaia my role as personage tiU ten 
at night. 

I see no difficulty in putting Mile, de Grouchy into the 



262 COEEESPONDENCE OF 

novitiate ; why not also Fontanges, who desires it so 
ardently ? Their appearance is not charming, but we must 
accustom ourselves to value only that which God values. 
I am perfectly well so far as my general health is con- 
cerned ; that is to say, I no longer have fever or weak- 
ness, but many rheumatic pains in my head as soon as I 
expose myself to cold. 

Adieu, my children. I shall see you again on the 17th 
of October, and I defy you to be more glad than I. 

To Mme. de Saint-Perier [mistress of the Blues]. 

Veksailles, 1708. 

We were interrupted a few days ago just as I was tell- 
ing you, my dear daughter, what I have already written 
elsewhere, namely : when you have girls of high rank you 
must redouble your care for their education, but in a 
manner imperceptible to the others — for the equality that 
you keep is admirable. What T ask does not go further 
than wishing you to speak to them oftener in private, 
employing them in all that can open their minds, instilling 
into them a solid piety and whatever can form their hearts 
to virtue. Those girls, when they go into the world, or 
even into convents, can do greater good than others who 
are forced by poverty to return to their parents. Mile, 
de Eochechouart is a case in point ; it seems to me that 
you push her enough ; I hope that her inclinations respond 
to her birth. 

You say you have had difficulty in combiniag two things 
that I asked of you, and which you find opposed to each 
other: one, that you ought to train, as much as you can, 
the consciences of your girls to be simple, open and direct ; 
and the other, that you must not make them talkative. 
There is no contrariety, as I think, between the two things ; 



MME. DE ^fATvmyoy. 263 

it is never the frank t^Iio liave tlie most to say. Frank- 
ness does not consist in saying nincli, but in saying all ; 
and tkat all is qnickly said when it is sincere, because 
there are no preambles, and no great number of words 
are needed to open the heart A simple pereon says 
naively what is in her mind; if she should chance to be 
a little too diffase, obedience calms her and fonx words 
are enongh. Those who are not simple cannot resolve 
either to speak or hold their tongnes ; their confidences 
must be dragged from them ; we lose onrselves in their 
twists and turns; that is what makes such long conver- 
sations and freqnent confessions ; they have said some- 
thing, bnt not all; they weie not willing to tell perhaps 
one circumstance, and then they are frightened at not 
having told it and so they retom to tell it and perhaps 
much else. Xow an honest heart tells at once all it knows. 
Have you not observed that the frankest girls are the 
soonest confessed? They hide nothing, and the confessor, 
who knows their disposition, has little to say to them. . . . 

To Miiu. dii Pcrou [now Superior of Saint-Cyx]. 

Yeesahxes, 1711. 
The [mistresses of the] classes are your principal affair; 
the establishment is your Institute, that is the king's inten- 
tion ; that is the object of your office. Never weary of preach- 
ing to your sisters the vigilance required in guarding and 
educating the young ladies. Do not add rules to rules : you 
have rules enough, but the mistresses do not read them 
enough. Make ceaseless attack upon the furtive quib- 
bling that the Dames de Saint-Louis keep up about their 
tima They go against the will of God, the intention of 
their instituters and founders, and against the charity they 
owe to the vouncr ladies if thev leave them at times when 



264 COERESPONDENCE OF 

their regulations do not oblige them to be in church. 
That hunger for prayer is only self-love wanting to be 
pleased with itself for its works, and counting as nought 
that which is done under rules. How can they teach 
young ladies that duty should be done accordiug to the 
place of each person if they themselves neglect the duty 
of theirs, which is the care of those young ladies ? A true 
Dame de Saint-Louis ought to contrive to be with her 
class at all possible moments, even at the hours when she 
is not obhged to be there. And yet they think they are 
pleasing God by making a half-hour's orison which was 
not required of them, and deserting the employment of the 
time which He does demand in accordance with their vows ! 
I should never end on this chapter, my dear daughter. 
Never give up on this point, I conjure you. It is for you 
to see that the rules are obeyed, and when your functions 
cease and you become again a simple mistress, set an 
example of fidelity to the others. 

To Mme. de Fontaines. 

April 20, 1713. 

Do not let us complain, my dear sister, and fear the 
future ; let us rather try to establish the present as best we 
can. You can contribute better than any one to this pur- 
pose, for you are sufficiently prudent not to vex the sisters ; 
at the same time you will never allow the young ladies to 
speak in a low tone to one another. The sisters must ex- 
cuse a great deal of poor talk that they will hear, and not 
reprove it when there is no real harm ia it. 

Mme. d'Auxy [this was Jeannette de Pincr^, an adopted 
daughter of Mme. de Maintenon] is quite beside herself 
when she has a new gown. She consults me about the 
trimming ; I enter into it and give her my advice, telHng 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 265 

her that her joy and liking for adornment belongs to her 
age, but that youth must pass, and that I hope she will 
come sooner or later to better inclinations. I think that 
such compliance does more good than severity, which serves 
only to rebuff the young and make them dissimulating. 

I am told that one of the little girls was scandalized in 
the parlour because her father talked of his breeches. That 
is a word in common usage. What refinement do they mean 
by this ? Does the arrangement of the letters form an im- 
modest word ? Do they feel distress at the words " breed " or 
" breeze " or " breviary " ? It is pitiable. Others only whisper 
under their breath that a woman is pregnant ; do they wish 
to be more modest than our Lord who talked of pregnancy 
and childbirth, etc. ? One of the young ladies stopped short 
when I asked her how many sacraments there were, not 
being willing to name marriage. She began to laugh and 
told me they were not allowed to name it in the convent 
from which she came. 

What ! a sacrament instituted by Jesus Christ, which he 
honoured with his presence, the obHgations of which his 
Apostles explained, and which we ought to teach to our 
daughters, must not be named to them ! These are the 
things that turn a convent education into ridicule. There is 
much more immodesty in such proceedings than there is in 
speaking openly of what is innocent and with which all 
pious books are filled. When our young ladies have passed 
through marriage they will know that it is not a thing to be 
laughed at. They ought to be accustomed to speak of it 
very seriously and even sadly, for I think it is the state of 
life in which we suffer most tribulation, even in the best 
marriages. They should be taught, when occasion offers, 
the difference between immodest words, which must never 
be uttered, and coarse words, — the first being sinful, the 
second simply against good-breeding. 



266 COEEESPONDENCE OF 

Adieu, my daughter, I never can finish when it is a ques- 
tion of our girls and the good of the establishment. 

To Mme. de la Bouziere [a class mistress]. 

Monday, May 6, 1714, 

I think, my dear daughter, that being too much attached 
to one's body means fearing too much inconveniences and 
want of ease, being too particular about one's person, being 
easily disgusted with that of others, dressing with too much 
care, apprehending cold, heat, smoke, dust — in a word, all 
the httle flesh mortifications — too much; it is desiring to 
satisfy our senses, seeking pleasure, being too much attached 
to our health, taking too much care of it, troubhng ourselves 
about remedies, occupying ourselves with our own relief, 
being too nice about what we like and too fidgety about 
what we fear ; it is examining ourselves on such points with 
too much care. Being too much attached to one's mind 
means to think we have one, to plume one's self upon it, to 
wish to increase it, to show it, to turn the conversation 
according to our own tastes, to seek out persons who have 
mind and despise others whom we think have none, to speak 
affectedly, and write the same. — But I am obliged to finish, 
my dear daughter. 

To Mme. de Vandam [then head mistress of the Blues]. 

January 12, 1715. 

In the year 1700 or 1701 I busied myself much with the 
classes, and we began to establish what is now practised with 
such great success. We should, however, renew our vigi- 
lance unceasingly, my dear daughter, and forbid the young 
ladies absolutely to say a single word in a low voice to their 
companions. This fault, which seems very slight to persons 
without experience, is really very considerable ; and there is 



MME. DE MAINTENOK 267 

none as to wMch you must be less indulgent. Punish it 
very severely, and let people say what they like. If the 
young ladies would reason about it for a moment themselves 
they would admit that they are whispering ia order to say 
things that they know are not right; it is therefore very 
proper to forbid it. 

We cannot feel sure of youth without this precaution; 
but after taking it, do not reprove them too severely for 
what you hear them say ; strive to teach them to distinguish 
the good, the bad, the indiscreet, the imprudent, the immod- 
est, the coarse; but always little by little, letting pass a 
number of things. 

I see our mistresses shocked and alarmed when our girls 
desire finery and think themselves happy when they get a 
pink gown ; a crime ought not to be made of that weakness 
of their age and sex ; they should be told gently that such 
tastes will pass away, but not that they are sias. By such 
little concessions you will win their confidence the more. 
But I repeat : they must not whisper, and the mistresses, the 
blacks, and the flame-coloured ribbons must keep their eyes 
always upon them. 

I pray God to make you know the value and sincerity of 
this vigilance, so that you may give yourself wholly to it ; 
keep at a distance whatever can embarrass you, and watch 
continually, but quietly. 

[On the 30th of August, 1715, two days before the king's 
death, Mme. de Maintenon went to Saint-Cyr, which was 
bound by its Constitution to provide for her and her estabhsh- 
ment ; she never left its precincts again.] 



IX. 



CONVERSATIONS AND INSTRUCTIONS OF MME. DE 
MAINTENON AT SAINT-CYR. 

[The following reports were written down by the mis- 
tresses, occasionally by the pupils, and corrected by Mme. 
de Maintenon herself, in order to make them more worthy 
of being read and reread by the mistresses in after days.] 

Advice to the Young Ladies on the letters they write. Brevity 
and sim;plicity recommended. 

January, 1695. 
As you order us to write down what was said yesterday 
at recreation we shall do so as exactly and simply as we can. 
Mme. de Maintenon was good enough to come here expressly 
to correct our letters, as our mistresses had begged her to do. 
She first made all the young ladies surround her, and those 
whose letters were to be corrected stood nearest to her. She 
showed them, one after another, the faults in those presented 
to her, making us particularly notice how a simple, natural 
style, without turns of phrase, was the best, and the one that 
all persons of intellect used ; telling us that the principal 
thing in order to write well is to express simply and clearly 
what one thinks. She gave us as an example M. le Due du 
Maine, whom she taught to write, when she had the care of 
him, by the time he was five years old. She related to us 
that having told him one day to write to the king, he 
answered, quite embarrassed, that he did not know how to 
write letters. Mme. de Maintenon said, " But have you 



COEEESPONDENCE OE MME. DE MAINTENON, 269 

nothing in your heart that you want to tell him ? " "I 
am very sorry he has gone," he rephed. " Well," she said, 
" write that, it is very good." Next she said, " Is that all 
you are thinking ? have you nothing else to say to him ? " 
" I shall be very glad when he comes back," replied the 
Due du Maine. " There is your letter made," said Mme. de 
Maintenon ; " you have only to write it down simply, as you 
think it ; if you think badly, it will be corrected." She 
then said to us, " That is how I taught him, and you have 
seen the charming letters that he writes." Mme. de Loubert, 
our head mistress, said it would be giving us great pleasure 
if she would take the trouble to write a model for us. She 
consented, and took for her subject the letters she had just 
corrected ; she wrote a note and a letter in order to show us 
the difference. 

We dared not show her the desire we had that she should 
write one for us as if to a person to whom we owed respect ; 
one of our mistresses was so good as to say this for us. 
Mme. de Maintenon asked us, with her accustomed kind- 
ness, "To whom, my children, do you wish me to address 
it ? " We answered her in a manner to let her know it 
should be to herself, as our benefactress. " Well," she said, 
" since you wish it, I will write you a letter of ceremony and 
respect to aged persons, although they are not of better 
famihes than your own." Then, addressing one of us, she 

said : " For instance, you owe respect to old M. T , your 

uncle, whom I know, though he is of the same family as 
your own ; you also owe me respect on account of my age," 
— as if wishing to tell us there was no other reason to 
make us respect her, so great is her humility ; but it does 
not become us. Mother, to speak to you of that, which you 
know better than we. 

After having written the letter we had asked of her, she 



270 COKKESPONDENCE OF 

■ - , , , <. 

had the kindness to read it to us, and then said : " You see 

I have made it respectful and tender, but it is meant for 

those who regard me as a mother, just as I regard them as 

my daughters." 

We have not as yet, Mother, received the letters she took 
the pains to write for us, but we shall try to obtain them 
soon, and will then give them to you, without changing 
anything. 

We must also tell you what she made us notice as to the 
last words of her letter which express the tenderness she 
allows us to show her, having the charity to consider us her 
daughters. She said to us : " If a person whom I did not 
know wrote to me thus it would not be proper, though I 
should not mind it; but as for those at Saint-Cyr, I like 
them to show me affection and write to me without 
ceremony. . . ." 

Before going away she said to us, " My dear children, 
do you think that all this will profit you ? " We answered 
that we hoped the pains she had taken would not be wasted, 
and she went away saying that she wished the same with all 
her heart. 

It is with much pleasure, Mother, that we have acquitted 
ourselves of what you ordered us ; we beg you to excuse all 
the defects you may perceive in it ; but we think there 
is no need to tell you how filled we are with gratitude to 
Mme. de Maintenon, who gives us daily fresh marks of her 
kindness. It is this which makes us hope for as fortunate 
a fate as that which has come to several of our companions 
who have been brought closer to her. We cannot hope 
that fate will do as much for us, but at least we are going 
to apply ourselves with all our strength to profit by the 
kindnesses which she now does us ; and we shall endeavour 
all our lives to do honour to the education which she pro- 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 271 

cured for us, and in which she so often employs herself. 
We are, Mother, with profound respect, your very humble 
and very obedient servants, 

D'OSMONT AND Du BOUCHOT. 

On good and lad characteristics of mind. 

April, 1700. 

On April 12 of the year 1700, Madame said to us during 
recreation : " I fear you judge too much by what the young 
ladies who present themselves for the novitiate have done 
in the classes. You see a girl commit some considerable 
fault, perhaps many faults, and that is enough to prejudice 
you against her; this is not just. You ought to judge, 
both in good and evil, only by perseverance in them ; 
because a girl who has kept to either throughout the 
classes proves that such is her character. I should, there- 
fore, not oblige a girl who has done weU throughout to 
make a long novitiate. And, without excluding a girl 
who did badly in the lower classes and seemed to change 
on entering class Blue, I should nevertheless prolong her 
novitiate so as to give her time to strengthen herself in 
good, if her change is sincere, and to test it if assumed ; so 
that you may see if she has one of those fickle, inconstant 
natures which, it may be feared, will fall back after a time 
into its early defects. 

" One of the things to which you ought to apply 
yourselves the most," continued Madame, " is to know 
the character of your novices ; it is very important to 
choose only sound ones ; piety may cut off vices, but it 
seldom changes the defects that come from the character 
of the mind. As for me, I would rather have what you 
call here a naughty girl, who is often only frolicksome, 
than a captious mind or an ill-humoured one, however 



272 CORRESPONDENCE OF 

pious. I rather like what are called naughty children, 
that is to say jovial, vainglorious, passionate, even a little 
headstrong, girls who chatter and are lively and self-willed, 
because all those defects are easily corrected by reason and 
piety, or even by age itself. But an ill-formed mind, a 
captious mind remains to the end." 

" Wliat do you mean," they asked her, " by an ill-formed, 
captious mind ? " "A mind," replied Madame, " that does 
not yield to reason ; that does not see results ; believes 
always that one is trying to vex it, gives an evil turn to 
everything, and without beiug malignant takes things quite 
otherwise than as they are meant. But nothing is worse 
than a false spirit, a disguised and dissembling one, or an 
obstinate and opinionated one. Beware of those defects 
and of a bad temper ; they are most troublesome in a 
community ; for nothing makes the burden of government 
heavier than the management of difficult natures which 
require diverse treatment. God allows all these defects 
because such ill-formed natures can always be saved. 
He is," she added pleasantly, " more indulgent than we ; 
He receives many persons into His paradise whom I should 
be sorry to admit into our community." 

Mme. de Eiancourt asked if 'being rather sulky was the 
same as being bad-tempered. " No," replied Madame, 
laughing. " I would readily permit a little sulkiness ; 
there are few children not subject to it ; but their natures 
are not bad for all that. What I call a bad temper is that 
of a person easily affronted, suspicious, cavilling about an 
air, a look, a word, — in short, a person with whom one can 
never be a moment at one's ease ; whereas a girl of a good 
spirit takes everything in good part, lets many things go 
by without taking them up ; and, far from imagining that 
persons mean to attack her, when they are not dreaming of 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 273 

it, does not even perceive a real intention to annoy ; a girl 
who accommodates herself to everything, who finds facilities 
for doing whatever is wanted ; a girl whom a superior can 
put without caution into any office and with all sorts of 
persons. That is what I caU a good mind ; it is a treasure 
to a community." 

Mistresses ought to suit their conduct to the diverse natures. 

1701. 
On one of our working-days Madame said to us : " You 
ask me to instruct you about your classes ; experience will 
teach you more than I can tell you; it is less my own 
mind that has taught me what I know than the experiments 
I made myself in the days when I educated the princes. 
You should regulate your conduct to the various char- 
acters ; be firm, but never find too much fault ; you must 
often shut your eyes and see nothing, and above all take 
care not to irritate your girls and drive them indiscreetly 
to extremities. There come unlucky days, when they are 
upset, emotional, and ready to murmur ; whatever you 
might then do in the way of remonstrance and reprimand 
would not bring them back to order. You must let things 
slide as gently as you can, " so as not to commit your 
authority ; and it will often happen that the next day 
the class will do marvels. Some children are so passionate 
and their tempers are so quick that were you to whip them 
ten times running you could not lead them as you wish. 
At such times they are incapable of reason, and punish- 
ment is useless ; you must give them time to calm, and 
calm yourself; but in order that they may not think you 
give up to them and that by their obstinacy they have 
become the stronger, you must use dexterity, employ an 
intermediary, or say that you put off the affair to another 

18 



274 COKRESPONDENCE OF 

time, which renders it more terrible ; but do not think that 
they will be angry and passionate aU their lives because 
in childhood their tempers are quick. 

" I have seen this in M. le Due du Maine ; he is now the 
gentlest man in the world, but in his childhood, made irri- 
table by illness and violent remedies, he was sometimes in a 
fury of impatience which every one reproached me for per- 
mitting. They used to put him into a boiling bath [bain 
houillant], and because he screamed and was out of temper 
they wanted me to scold him ; but I assure you I had not 
the courage; I would go away to write, or have myself 
called away, so that he might not think I tolerated his iU- 
temper (which, as I think, was very pardonable on such 
occasions) ; besides which, the remedies so heated his blood 
that all I could have said or done would not have calmed 
him. One must study the moments at which to take the 
means most suitable to children. Sometimes a look, a word, 
will bring them back to their duty ; or a private conversation 
in which you can bring them to reason by speaking kindly 
with them. There are some that you must publicly rebuke, 
and sometimes often ; there are others that you must punish 
instantly and not appear to spare. In short, discretion and 
experience can alone teach you the means you ought to take 
on all occasions ; but you will never succeed unless you act 
with a great dependence on the spirit of God. You must 
pray to Him much for all those with whom you are in- 
trusted ; address Him in a special manner when you are 
puzzled, never doubt that He will help you as long as you 
distrust yourselves and are careful to keep yourselves united 
to Him." 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 275 

Questions on ideas of 'pleasure. Principle of conduct to 

follow in friendships. 

December, 1701. 

Mme. de Maintenon asked Mile, de la Jonchapt on what 
was the lesson of the day when she entered the class [of the 
Blues]. She replied, " It was, Madame, on the ideas we 
form of pleasure." " Well," said Mme. de Maintenon, 
" what are yours ; what would they be if you were no longer 
here ? " "I think," said the young lady, " I would like to 
be with my family, all assembled and all united." " You 
are right to consider that a pleasure," said Mme. de Mainte- 
non, " it is in the order of God ; nothing is so lovable as a 
united family. And you, Laudonie, what would you like, 
when you are no longer here ? " "I hope, Madame, that I 
should find my pleasure in rendering service to my father 
and mother." " That is also very right," said Mme. de 
Maintenon, " every time that you think in that way, and do 
not look for greater pleasures, it may be said that you are 
very reasonable. But you do not sufficiently put into your 
plan that you will have to suffer. Expect that, my children, 
I implore you ; nothing is so capable of softening ill-fortune, 
which may overtake you, as being prepared for it; always 
expect something worse than you have met with." " There 
is one among them," said the mistress (it was Mme. de 
Saint-P^rier), "who tells me she expects her pleasure in 
going to see her friends and receiving them in her own 
house." " Assuredly," replied Mme. de Maintenon, " there is 
much pleasure in living with our friends and conversing 
with open hearts, as we say, and no constraint. But there 
is," she added in a lower voice to the mistress, " a pagan 
maxim, which I think very stern ; it is to act with our 
friends as if we were sure they would some day be our ene- 
mies. I could secure myself, it seems to me, by letting my 



276 COREESPONDENCE OE 

friends see nothing that was bad in me ; I should try never to 
be wrong in their presence, nor in that of persons whom I 
loved less, because so many circumstances occur in life to sep- 
arate us that friends often become enemies, and then we are 
in despair at having trusted them too much, and having 
spoken to them freely without reserve. 

" Mme. de Montespan and I, for example," she added, con- 
tinuing to speak in a low voice to the mistress, — " we have 
been the greatest friends in the world ; she liked me much, 
and I, simple as I was, trusted her friendship. She was a 
woman of much intelligence and full of charm ; she spoke 
to me with great confidence, and told me all she thought. 
And yet we are now at variance, without either of us having 
intended it. It is assuredly without fault on my side ; and 
yet if either has cause to complain it is she ; for she may say 
with truth : ' I was the cause of her elevation ; it was I who 
made her known and Hked by the king, and she became the 
favourite while I was dismissed.' On the other hand, was 
I wrong to accept the affection of the king on the conditions 
upon which I accepted it? Did I do wrong to give him 
good advice and to try, as best I could, to break up his con- 
nections ? But let us return to what I meant to say in the 
first instance. If in loving Mme. de Montespan as I loved 
her I had been led to enter in a bad way into her intrigues, 
if I had given her bad advice, either from the world's point 
of view or from God's, if — instead of urging her all I could 
to break her bonds — I had shown her the means of re- 
taining the king's affection, would she not have in her hands 
at this moment the means of destroying me if she wished 
revenge ? ' This (or that) person whom you esteem so 
much,' she used to say to me, ' said to me thus and so ; she 
urged me to do this, she counselled me that,' etc. Have I 
not good reason to say that we should not let anything be 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 277 

seen even to our friends whicli they might use in the end 
against us ? Sooner or later things are known, and it is very- 
annoying to have to blush for things we have said and done 
in times past." 

" I said, many years ago, to M. de Barillon [one of her 
oldest friends] that there was nothing so clever as to never 
be in the wrong, and to conduct one's self always and with all 
sorts of persons in an irreproachable manner; he thought I 
was right, and said that, in truth, there was nothing so able 
as to put one's self, through good conduct, under shelter from 
all blame. 

" I remember that one day the king sent me to speak to 
Mile, de Fontanges ; she was in a fury against certain morti- 
fications she had received ; the king feared an explosion and 
sent me to calm her. I was there two hours and I employed 
the time in persuading her to quit the king and in trying to 
convince her it would be a fine and praiseworthy thing to 
do. I remember that she answered me excitedly, ' Madame, 
you talk to me of quitting a passion as I would a chemise.' 
But to return to myself, you must admit I had nothing to 
blush for, and no reason to fear it should be known what I 
had said to her. 

" You cannot too strongly preach the same conduct to your 
young ladies ; let them give nothing but good advice ; teach 
them to act in the most secret and personal affairs as if a 
hundred thousand witnesses were about them, or would be 
later ; for I say again, there is nothing that is not sooner or 
later known, and it is more Christian, more virtuous, safer, 
and more honourable to have been a noble personage only ; 
and even if we remain forever ignorant of what has been the 
wisdom of our conduct, I think we ought to count for much 
the inward testimony of a good conscience." Then rising, 
she said to the class, " Adieu, my children, I am obliged to 



278 COKRESPONDENCE OF 

return to Versailles ; but I have given my sister de Saint- 
P^rier a fine field on whicli to instruct you." 

On contempt for insults and injuries. 

1701. 

On the last day of the year 1700, the community having 
said to Mme. de Maintenon that they hoped to bury with 
the past century all their old differences and be other than 
they had been in the coming one ; and also that they begged 
her to pardon and forget the imperfections of the year 1700 
and those which had preceded it, " The past year," she replied, 
"has been fortunate enough; many things have been cor- 
rected and I now see in this establishment more of good 
than of evil. God grant that you advance as much the com- 
ing year ; I hope it greatly, for He has given you good will- 
ingness ; that is what he requires of us : ' Peace on earth to 
men of good will,' said the angels. When this good will is 
real and sincere it does not remain useless, it produces in- 
f alhbly its fruit ; in some sooner, in others later. We must 
await the times and moments of God, not by remaining idle, 
but by working with good will, without discouragement and 
without uneasiness, leaving to God the care of blessing our 
labour. It is certain that He desires our perfection more 
than we do ourselves. He could make us perfect in a single 
day and all at once ; but that is not His ordinary conduct ; 
He defers, He touches the heart of one at this time, another 
may be touched at a future time. We must adore His designs 
and work in peace and confidence." 

The Dames de Saint-Louis having complained in the 
same conversation that they were not persecuted as other 
institutions had been at their birth : " You will be," said 
Mme. de Maintenon, "and you have been already, though 
the harm that is said of you may not come to your ears. I 



MME, DE MAINTENON. 279 

pay no regard to it, nor to that wliicli is said of me myself. 
I receive letters every day not only in the style of the person 
whom my sister de But^ry knows of, but letters which ask 
if I am not tired of growing fat by sucking the blood of the 
poor ; and what I, being so aged, expect to do with the gold 
I am amassing. I receive other letters that go farther still 
and say to me the most insulting things ; some of them warn 
me I shall be assassinated. But all this does not trouble 
me ; I do not think it needs much virtue to feel no resent- 
ment for that sort of opposition. I said rather an amusing 
thing on a first impulse the other day to a poor woman, who 
came to me while I was surrounded by a number of the 
Court, weeping and imploring that I would get justice for 
her. I asked what wrong had been done to her. 'In- 
sults,' she said; 'they insult me, and I want reparation.' 
' Insults ! ' I exclaimed, ' why, that is what we Hve on here ! ' 
That answer made the ladies who accompanied me laugh." 
" I think, ]\Iadame," said Mme. de Saint-Pars, " that, far from 
enriching yourself at the expense of the poor, you run into 
debt for the charities you do." " As for debts," she replied, 
" I have none ; but it often happens that I have no money ; 
and when I settle my accounts at the end of the year I do 
not see how my income has been able to furnish all I have 
spent and given away." 

On Civility. 

1702. 

Mme. de Maintenon having had the goodness to ask the 
young ladies on what topic they wished her to speak to 
them, Mile, de Bouloc entreated her to instruct them on 
civility. She told them that civility consisted more in 
actions than in words and compliments ; and there was but 
one rule to be given about it. " It is in the Gospel," she said, 



280 COERESPOKDENCE OF 

" wliich adapts itself so well to the duties of civil life. You 
know that our Lord said that we must not do to others what 
we would not wish them to do to us. That is our great rule, 
which does not exclude the proprieties in usage in the dif- 
ferent regions where we may be living. As for what regards 
society, I make civility to consist in forgetting one's self and 
beiag occupied only with what concerns others ; in paying 
attention to whatever may convenience or inconvenience 
them, so as to do the one and avoid the other; in never 
speaking of one's self ; in listening to others and not obliging 
them to listen to us ; in not turning the conversation to 
one's self or one's own tastes, but letting it fall naturally on 
that of others ; in moving away when two persons begin to 
speak to each other in a low voice ; in returning thanks for 
the smallest service and therefore of course for great ones. 
You cannot do better, my children, than to practise all these 
good manners among yourselves, and so acquire such a habit 
of them that they will soon become natural to you. I assure 
you that these attentions, and continual regard paid to the 
claims of others are what make a person pleasing in society ; 
and they cost nothing to those who are well brought up. 
You have, for the most part, that advantage ; put it therefore 
to profit, and you will be compensated for the self-restraiat 
you will have to exercise ia the beginning by the esteem and 
friendship these deferential manners will procure you." 

On never neglecting to learn useful things. 

1702. 

Madame having come to class Green and asking news of 
a certain young lady, the mistress told her she had given up 
plain-chant. " Has she no voice ? " said Madame, " well, we 
are alike in that. I never could sing an air, but I never 
hear one that I do not remember it, and after the second 



MME. DE MAINTENOK 281 

hearing I feel all tlie mistakes that are made in it. I do 
sing sometimes when I am alone, and it gives me great 
pleasure, but I do not think it would give as much to others 
if they heard me. What effect does plain-chant have on the 
classes ? " " They are delighted to learn it, and it will be 
very useful to them," replied the mistress. " Yes, un- 
doubtedly," said Madame ; " even if they cannot sing, they 
will get a little knowledge of singing, which will always give 
them pleasure. We should never neglect to learn anything, 
no matter what. I never supposed that learning to comb 
hair would be useful to me. My mother, going to America, 
took several women with her, but they all married there, 
— even to one old woman, frightfully ugly, with club feet. 
My mother was left with none but little slaves, who were 
quite incapable of waiting upon her, and especially of doing 
her hair. She then taught me to do it, and as she had a 
very fine head of very long hair I was obliged to stand on 
a chair ; but I combed it extremely well. From there I 
came to Court, and this little talent won me the favour of 
Mme. la Dauphine ; she was quite astonished at the way I 
could handle a comb. I began by disentangling the ends of 
the hair and went on upwards. The dauphine said she was 
never so well combed as by me ; I did it often, because her 
waiting- women never could do it as well ; they, the women, 
would have been sorry — if for nothing else — not to have 
had me there every morning. I think you have to comb each 
other's hair ; and you ought not to make difficulties, or think 
it beneath you because you are young ladies. Many a day 
I have come here very early in the morning to comb the 
Eeds and cut their hair and clean out the vermin. You 
are given the liberty to cut your hair ; and cutting it makes 
it finer. I remember that my mother never saw me with- 
out putting her scissors to mine ; and she succeeded in what 



282 COEEESPOKDENCE OF 

she intended, for I have still a great deal of hair on my 
head. 

" I repeat, my children, that you should never neglect to 
learn everything you can learn. Nothing so marks the in- 
telligence of a person as liking to see and learn how a thing 
is done. I am charmed with Jeannette ; it is surprising that 
a child of her age should apply herself as she does; the 
other day she spent half an hour watching to see how a lock 
was put on ; she looked it over in every way and gave her 
whole attention to it. Mme. la Duchesse de Bourgogne 
knows how to do every kind of work ; I am often astonished 
by it. I think she must have been brought up like our 
princes, and that some waiting-woman, to pay her court, 
taught her these things. She does not need to learn any 
of the handicrafts wherever she is, for she knows them all ; 
you could teach her nothing. Also, would you believe it ? 
she understands about fevers ; she feels my pulse when she 
thinks I am ill, and what she says about me is sure to be 
the same that M. Fagon says afterwards. She knows how 
to spin wool, flax, silk, how to use a spinning-wheel, how to 
knit, and she has lately embroidered for herself a gown of 
yellow taffetas. I used to spin myself ; to please my gover- 
ness, I spun her a gown. M. de Louvois knew all sorts of 
trades ; he had enormously thick fingers, almost as large as 
two of my thumbs, and yet he could take a watch to pieces 
with wonderful nicety, though there is nothing more delicate 
to handle. He could be shoemaker, mason, gardener, etc. 
One day when I was winding silk on two cards, or squares, of 
a pretty shape, while he worked with the king in my room, 
he was dying of curiosity to know how the pretty thing that 
I held was made. The king noticed this, and told me in a 
low voice. I showed it to him ; he unwound the silk, ex- 
amined the card, and put it together again most adroitly. 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 283 

" There is nothing that we have not, sometime or other, a 
need to know. In the days when I brought up the princes 
[Louis XIY.'s children by Mme. de Montespan] it was neces- 
sary to keep them concealed ; and for that purpose we were 
constantly changing our place of residence, and the tapestries 
had to be rehung each time. I used to mount the ladder 
myself, for I often had no one to help me and I dared not 
make the nurses do it ; in that way I learned a trade I am 
sure I should never have learned otherwise." 

" It was because you had great energy," said a mistress. 
" It is true," replied Madame, " that I did have energy in 
my youth." " That is just what is wanting to our young 
ladies," said the mistress ; " they are so tired with the least 
exertion that they can hardly walk round the garden without 
fatigue." "They ought not to sit still a moment," said 
Madame ; " it is good to run, jump, dance, and play at base, 
skittles, and other games ; it makes them grow. Perhaps 
that is the reason they are so short. It is amazing that at 
their age they do not like to be active, and that they want to 
be always sitting down or leaning upon something. Mme. 
de Eichelieu at seventy years of age had never leaned back 
in her coach, and I myself, old and ill as I am, I am always 
as erect as you see me. I am glad when I see you sweeping 
and rubbing the floors of the church, because it is good for 
your health ; if I could, I would make you run about all the 
time ; but you cannot be educated while running. I do not 
understand why you should object to sweeping; it makes 
you strong. You ought not to object to help a servant ; I 
have never seen pride on that point among the nobility, 
except at Saint-Cyr. I can understand perfectly well that 
beggars reclothed [^gueux revetus, the term in those days for 
2)arvenus'] should not venture to touch the ground with the 
tips of their fingers ; but nobles do not think such things 



284 COERESPONDENCE OF 

beneath them." " I thiak," said a mistress, " that you had 
the goodness to tell us once that you taught your nurse 
to read." " Yes," rephed Madame, " and sometimes she 
said she would not learn. I used to follow that woman 
about, and often I spent whole days sifting flour through a 
hopper; she would set me up upon a chair to do it more 
conveniently. It is very fatiguing work ; I only did it to 
oblige my nurse. Since then God has raised me to great 
fortune and given me great wealth ; but I have never loved 
money except to share it. I do not put my happiness into 
having fine petticoats, as you may see by the gowns I wear, 
but I put it into giving pleasure to others. You know that 
one of the maxims I have taught you is : The greatest of all 
pleasures is to be able to give pleasure." 

Then she asked Mile, de Brunet which was easier, to 
exact things from one's self, or from others. Mile, de Brunet 
answered, "Erom ourselves." Several other young ladies 
were questioned and thought the same. "You are right," 
said Mme. de Maintenon. " I cannot understand how any 
one can think otherwise, because it seems to me more just 
and appropriate that we should inconvenience ourselves 
rather than inconvenience others ; we ought always to be oc- 
cupied in avoiding whatever may give pain to other people. 
Mme. la Duchesse de Bourgogne undertook a piece of work, 
to execute which she sent for a woman who embroiders, and 
this woman spent the whole of yesterday with her without 
her ever thinking of giving her anything to eat. I asked the 
woman in the evening if she had eaten ; she said no, and I 
made her dine and sup both. The king, who is wonderfully 
attentive, reproved Mme. la Duchesse de Bourgogne severely ; 
she tried to laugh it off, but he told her that he could not 
laugh at such a matter. I am convinced that that poor 
woman was not much pleased to find that while she worked 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 285 

hard, those she worked for let her go hungry. If such a 
mark of mattention, which might be very pardonable in a 
young princess of sixteen, was rebuked by the king with 
such seriousness, how much more should girls like you who 
will have to spend all your hves in attentions to others need 
reproof if you neglect them. 

" The king always astonishes me when he speaks of his 
own education. His governesses amused themselves, he 
says, all day, and left him in the hands of the maids without 
taking any care of him — you know that he began to reign 
when he was three and a half years old. He ate whatever he 
could lay hands on, without any attention being paid to the 
injury this was to his health ; it was this that accustomed 
him to so much carelessness about himself. If they fricas- 
seed an omelet he snatched bits of it, which Monsieur and 
he went off into a comer to eat. He relates sometimes that 
he spent his time mostly with a peasant ghl, the child of a 
waiting-maid of the queen's waiting-maid. He called her 
Queen Marie, because they played at the game, ' h la ma- 
dame', she taking the part of queen, and he serving her as 
page or footman, carrying her train, wheehng her in a chair, 
or marching with a torch in front of her. You can imagine 
whether little Queen Marie gave him good advice, and 
whether she was useful to him in any way." 

On never omitting either lalour or ;pains. 

July, 1703. 
I am very much pleased, my dear children [of class Yel- 
low], to find in you as much docihty and the same simphcity 
that there is in the younger classes ; and for this I give you 
great praise. I wish to talk with you now on the precau- 
tions which you take to avoid too much labour and trouble. 
It seems that some of you think you can exempt yourselves 



286 CORRESPONDENCE OF 

from the common lot and avoid suffering the slightest dis- 
comfort ; but you will find that what you have to suffer now 
is nothing at all in comparison with what you will meet with 
in the world. There is no one who does not suffer. I have 
long had the honour of seeing the king very closely ; if any 
one could shake off the yoke and have no cares or troubles 
it would surely be he ; and yet he has them continually. 
Sometimes he spends the whole day in his cabinet going 
over his accounts ; I often see him cracking his brains over 
them, beginning them over and over again, and not leaving 
them till he has finished them all ; and this duty he never 
devolves upon a minister. He relies on no one but himself 
for the regulation of his armies ; he possesses a knowledge of 
the number of his troops and regiments in detail, like that 
which I possess of the divisions in your classes. He holds 
several councils a day, where business that is often vexatious 
and always wearisome is transacted; such as that of war, 
pestilence, famine, and other afflictions. He has now the 
government of two great kingdoms ; for nothing is done in 
Spain except by his order. The King of Spain has no money, 
because of the laziness of his subjects ; their land is much 
more extensive than that of France, but it brings in nothing 
because it is not cultivated. AU this is an additional care 
to our king; he can scarcely take any pleasure; business 
absorbs all his time. And yet if there is a condition which 
might be supposed exempt from toil and fatigue, it is that 
of royalty. The ministers, whose places are so coveted and 
envied (though without reason), well deserve the profits of 
their offices from the paias and fatigues they have to endure 
in them. M. de Chamillart is working perpetually ; there 
is no longer even a question of relaxation for him, still less 
of pleasure ; he cannot see his family, whom he loves pas- 
sionately, because he has not a moment to give it, being from 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 287 

morning till night engaged in disagreeable affairs and trying, 

for example, to make out whether Peter or John is in the 

the right. People fear he will fall ill, and he is very much 

changed; he sent for his daughter, to marry her, but he 

cannot even see her. Yet that is a man whom everybody 

thinks fortunate. 

On marriage. 

1705. 

Mme. de Maintenon, having married Mile, de ISTorman- 
ville (who had stayed with her some years after leaving 
Saint-Cyr) to M. le President Brunet de Chailly, did her 
the honour to be present at the wedding. The next day 
she mentioned to the Dames de Saint Louis that M. I'Abb^ 
Brunet had made an excellent exhortation in marrying 
them, in which he rebuked the over-delicate modesty of 
those who blamed priests for opening their lips in church 
about a sacrament there administered, which Jesus Christ 
has instituted, which Saint Paul declares to be great and 
honourable ; while at the same time their ears are not too 
scrupulous to listen outside of the church to love-songs, 
and speeches of questionable meaning. "This false deli- 
cacy is one of the blunders," she said, " that I do not wish 
to see you fall into, my dear daughters. Nearly all nuns 
dare not utter the word ' marriage ' ; Saint Paul had no such 
scruple, and speaks of it very openly. I have noticed this 
weakness in you, and I should like to destroy it once for 
all." "It is true," said Mme. de Jas, "that we usually 
pass over that article in the Catechism ; we consulted the 
Superior to know if we should use it; we did not even 
mention it in the choir until you told us we ought to 
speak of it as of all other matters in the Catechism, when 
occasion offered." " Do you not see, my dear daughters," 
resumed Mme. de Maintenon, "that it is a notion quite 



288 CORRESPONDENCE OF 

unsustainable in a house like tliis that you cannot venture 
to speak of a state which many of your young ladies must 
enter, which is approved by the Church, which Jesus Christ 
himself honoured by his presence ? How will you make 
them capable of properly fulfilhng the duties of the several 
states to which God calls them if you never speak of them ; 
and (what is worse) if you let them see the difficulty which 
you feel in speaking of such things ? There is certainly 
less modesty and propriety in such feelings than in speak- 
ing seriously and in a Christian manner of a holy state 
which has great obligations to meet. Fear only that the 
omissions your pupils make through ignorance of the duties 
of that state may fall on you who have failed to instruct 
them in it." 

" Have the kindness, Madame," said Mme. de Jas, " to 
tell us a little in detail what it is proper for us to say to 
them on that subject." "You cannot preach to them too 
much," repKed Mme. de Maintenon, "about the edification 
that each will owe to her husband; also the support, the 
attachment to his person and all his interests, the service 
and cares that depend upon her ; above all, the sincere and 
discreet zeal for his salvation, of which so many virtuous 
women have set an example, as well as of that of patience ; 
also the care of the education of children which extends 
so far into the future ; and that of servants and household ; 
all of which are much more indispensable duties for mothers 
of famihes than prayers of supererogation, which many of 
them have been taught to make, to the injury of the more 
important duties of their condition. When you speak of 
marriage to your young ladies in this way, they will see 
that there is nothing in it to laugh about. Nothing can 
be more serious than such an engagement. Establish it, 
therefore, as a system, to speak to them on this subject 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 289 

when it presents itself; and do not permit that, under a 
pretence of modesty and perfection, the name of marriage 
shall not be mentioned ; that silly affectation, if I may 
venture to so express myself, will cast you down very low 
iato the pettiness I have taken such pains to make you 
avoid." 

On the virtues called cardinal. 

June, 1705. 

Mme. de Maintenon, being in class Blue, talked to the 
young ladies of the cardinal virtues, but first she said that 
the word " cardinal " was taken from a Latin word signifying 
hinge, because, just as a door turns on its hinges, so the 
whole conduct of our lives should turn on the four virtues 
which include all others. She exhorted them to love them, 
and not think it was enough to know how to define them, 
but to practise them, in order all the sooner to gain merit. 

Mile, de Villeneuve asked her in what " merit " consisted. 
She answered : " In having an assemblage of virtues and 
good qualities, and, above aU, religion and reason." Then 
she explained Justice ; saying that justice in action con- 
sists in rendering to every one that which is due to him, 
and consenting that others should render to us what we 
deserve. " What do we deserve when we do wrong ? MUe. 
de Laudonie, answer." " We deserve blame," answered the 
young lady. " Yes," said Mme. de Maintenon, " and it 
is therefore justice to suffer ourselves to be blamed when 
we do wrong ; that is one of the best ways of repairing 
our faults ; there is no one who cannot act justly in that 
way. It is the mark of a good mind to recognize our 
faults and admit them. On the other hand, it is the mark 
of a very small mind not to be able to see and admit that 
we are wrong, and to seek for false excuses to cover it." 

She next said that besides that sort of justice, which 

19 



290 COREESPONDENCE OF 

ought to be found in our actions, there was one of judg- 
ment, called equity, which so works that, without being 
influenced by our inclinations or dislikes, it obliges us to 
form just ideas on all things, to distinguish good from evil 
(even to seeing the faults of friends without being blinded 
in their favour by affection), and to recognize in good faith 
the good qualities which may exist in persons whom we 
Kke least and who are even unpleasant to us. " Not," she 
said, " that we are obliged to disclose the faults of our 
friends ; because friendship demands that we should cover 
and excuse them unless it is necessary to stop an evil by 
disclosing them ; but justice requires that we should judge 
to be bad that which is bad, and good that which is good, 
independently of our inclinations either way in respect to 
the persons concerned. The first and surest rule to avoid 
being mistaken in our judgments is to conform them as 
nearly as possible to those of God, which are shown to us 
in Holy Scripture and in the Gospel ; and the second rule, 
which is also drawn from the Gospel, is to judge others as 
we wish that they should think and judge of us, and to 
treat them in all things as we should wish to be treated, 

" But there is still another degree of justice more excellent 
than these and which demands a very different kind of vir- 
tue : it is unselfishness, which makes us capable of deciding 
against ourselves in favour of those who have right on their 
side. There are many persons sufficiently equitable to judge 
justly about the cases of others ; but as soon as they them- 
selves are interested we find them biased in their own favour. 
That is not justice, for justice insists that we shall declare 
for the right on whichever side it is found. The king did 
a praiseworthy action, which has been much admired as to 
this. Some time ago he had a lawsuit against certain private 
persons in Paris who had believed, the ramparts of the town 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 291 

being greatly neglected, that they were free to appropriate a 
piece of land and build upon it. Many years after they had 
done so the officers charged with the king's revenue reflected 
that as that land belonged to him, the houses that were built 
upon it ought also to belong to him, or at least that he ought 
to be paid the value of the land on which they were built. 
The private persons contended that the long time they 
had been in possession was a sufficient title to make the 
property theirs. The affair was carried to the king and 
judged in his presence; half of the judges were for him, 
half declared for the other side, which was very praise- 
worthy, the king being present. Now it is a law of the 
kingdom, in suits thus judged before the king according to 
plurality of opinions, that in case of an equal division he 
shall give the casting vote; it depended therefore on the 
king himself to win his case ; but instead of doing so he gave 
his vote to the opposite side, saying that, inasmuch as there 
were good reasons on both sides, he preferred to relinquish 
his rights rather than press them farther to the injury of his 
subjects. 

" Let us now pass to Prudence. That is a virtue that rules 
all our words and actions according to reason and religion ; 
it enables us to discern what we should do or omit doing, say 
or keep silence about, according to occasions and circum- 
stances ; it is opposed to the indiscretion of speaking out of 
season." Thereupon she asked Mile, de Saint-Maixant what 
she considered most contrary to charity, to ridicule a person 
for corporal defects, or for defects of mind or temper. The 
young lady answered, " To ridicule defects of mind or heart." 
" It is never right to ridicule any defects," said Mme. de Main- 
tenon ; " charity enjoins us to excuse all ; but I think that it is 
base and cruel to blame a person for a natural defect which he 
has had no share in producing, and which he cannot correct. 



.-»•• 



292 COEEESPONDENCE OP 

Good hearts and minds are incapable of laughing at such 
defects ; they endure them and ignore them out of care and 
tenderness for those who have them. But I should think it 
more excusable to blame a defect of mind or temper ; for, 
after all, the person who has it could correct it, or at least 
diminish it ; therefore that person is blamable to give way 
to it. Nevertheless, charity forbids us to reproach him for 
that as well as for the other. One means of avoiding the 
indiscretion which is so disagreeable in society is to become 
prudent, to reflect on what we are about to say, in order to 
foresee whether it will have any evil result or give pain to 
others. 

" Prudence also induces us to consult those who are wise 
and experienced; it makes us take judicious measures to 
carry out that which we undertake to do ; and it teaches us 
to undertake nothing that is not judicious, and has not a fair 
appearance of success. 

" Temperance is a virtue which moderates us in all things, 
and makes us keep the golden mean between too much and 
too little. It should be in continual use; it prevents all 
excitements of passion, whether of joy or sadness ; if we 
laugh, it is with moderation and modesty ; if we weep, it is 
not as delivering ourselves up entirely to grief, but as bear- 
ing it peaceably and patiently ; if we eat, it is with modera- 
tion; in short, temperance prevents excess in all things. 
Temperance is to you, who are here, very necessary on all 
occasions, because the foible of youth is to be carried away 
by joy and pleasure; everything turns the head of youth 
and prevents it from possessing itself, unless it takes great 
care to control this tendency. Eemember carefully what I 
am about to say to you : every person who is not mistress 
of herself will never have merit, whether before God or before 
the world. She must be mistress of her joy and not give 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 293 

way to fits of laughter, to excessive demonstrations ; all joy 
shown by postures of the body is immoderate, and, conse- 
quently, opposed to temperance. We should never hear a 
modest and well brought-up young person laugh noisily ; the 
Holy Spirit, as you know, says Himself that the laugh of a 
fool is known because he laughs loudly, but the wise man 
laughs beneath his breath because he is master of all his 
motions and knows how to moderate them. And yet every- 
thiag puts you beside yourselves. If the ball rolls into trou 
Tnadame [a game] that is enough to make you shout and 
scream with laughter; and still more if you win the game. 
I do not condemn a little joy on such occasions, but it should 
not go so far as immoderate shouts and losing your self- 
possession. We break the Eeds of such uproars of joy, how 
much therefore should you, who ought to be more reasonable, 
break yourselves of this habit. 

"Fortitude is a virtue which makes us pursue our enter- 
prises with courage, and surmount the obstacles we find in 
ourselves and others to the good we have undertaken, with- 
out giving way before difficulties ; sustaining all unfortunate 
events with firmness and without discouragement. 

" To which of us is the virtue of fortitude most necessary, 
Beauvais ? " " To the one who has most defects and those 
most difficult to conquer," replied the young lady. " Yes, 
I think as you do," said Mme. de Maintenon. Then she 
added : " Should those who have the most defects, or who feel 
they are not so well-born, be discouraged and imagine they 
can never succeed in conquering them?" "No, Madame," 
said the young lady, "because our merit depends on our 
efforts aided by the grace of God." " That is an admirable 
answer," said Mme. de Maintenon; "never forget it, my 
children; our merit depends upon our effort. With that 
good word I leave you, but we will talk of it again." 



294 COEEESPOKDENCE OF 

On making excuses and inapjpro^priate answers. 

1706. 
" I wish, my dear children," said Mme. de Maintenon to 
the young ladies, " that I could rid you of your tendency to 
make excuses. I know it is very natural, and it forms a 
religious penance not to make excuses, even when unjustly 
blamed. But that is not what I require of you ; I ask you 
only, on such occasions, to listen respectfully and tranquilly 
to what your mistresses say to you, and when they have 
ended ask them, in a gentle and modest way, to allow you 
to give your reasons — provided they are good, for it is a 
thousand times better when you are wrong to acknowledge 
it than to make a single bad excuse. ... I like a girl in- 
finitely more who sometimes does wrongful things and owns 
it frankly and seems sorry for the trouble she occasions, 
than another who usually does right but refuses to acknowl- 
edge a fault when she happens to commit one. I have often 
admired Mme. la Duchesse de Bourgogne, who is the first 
princess in the land and over whom I, naturally, have no 
authority ; you would scarcely believe with what docility, 
what good spirit, what gratitude she receives the advice I 
take the liberty to give her. But, more than that, I found 
her the other day sitting on the stairs outside the door of 
my room with Jeanne, a coarse village-woman of good sense 
whom I have in my household, who was telling her of her 
faults and what she heard said to her disadvantage in Paris ; 
and that charming princess, instead of being offended by the 
frankness of the good woman, threw her arm round her 
neck and kissed her several times, saying : ' I am very much 
obliged to you, Jeanne ; I thank you for all that you have 
told me, for I know it is out of affection to me.' And when- 
ever she sees her now she is not only friendly but she kisses 
her heartily, though she is old and ugly and disgusting." 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 295 

On the taste for dress. 

1708. 

A mistress having said to Madame that some of the young 
ladies had shown publicly before their companions their de- 
light in being well-dressed, and had said they could not con- 
ceive of a greater pleasure and that nuns withered with 
grief at seeing persons who were thus dressed, . . . Madame 
said : " I cannot sufficiently tell you, my children, what pet- 
tiness there is in this desire for adornment, though it is 
natural in persons of our sex. It is, however, so humiliating 
that those who care for their reputation, even in the great 
world, should be careful not to show that weakness if they 
have it, for it makes them despised by aU ; the most worldly 
persons, on the contrary, esteem young ladies who despise 
their beauty and do not affect to improve it by dress. 

" When I exhort you sometimes to endeavour to please, I 
mean that it shall be by good conduct, and not by fine 
clothes ; sorrow to those who seek to distinguish themselves 
in that way ! If they are not sensitive to the distress of 
offending God, a love of their own honour should put them 
above this foible ; for the world turns to ridicule those in 
whom it sees the desire to appear beautiful, especially when 
they are not so really. Those who have beauty and seem to 
disregard it are, on the contrary, much esteemed. I wish," 
added Madame, sighing, " I had done as much for God as I 
have for the world to preserve my reputation. In my youth 
I persisted, in the midst of the highest society, in wearing 
nothing but simple serge, at a period when no one wore it ; 
I was more singular in my dress than a young lady of Saint- 
Cyr would be now in the midst of the Court." Mme. de 
Champigny asked her if it was from fear of pleasing that she 
dressed so modestly. " I was not happy enough," she re- 
plied, " to act in that way from piety ; I did it from reason 



296 COERESPONDENCE OF 

and for the sake of my reputation. I had not means enough 
to equal others in the magnificence of their clothing ; so I 
preferred to throw myself into the other extreme and prove 
that I was above all desire to make a show by apparel and 
adornment, rather than let it be thought I snatched at what 
I could, and did my best to equal them. I could not tell 
you what esteem such conduct won me ; people never tired 
of admiring a pretty young woman who had the courage, in 
the midst of society, to keep to such modest apparel ; that is 
just what it was ; but there was nothing vulgar or repulsive 
about it ; if the stuff itself was simple, the gown was well- 
fitting and very ample, the linen was white and fine, nothing 
was shabby. I made more of an appearance in that way 
than if I had worn a gown of faded silk, like most of the 
poor young ladies who try to be in the fashion and who have 
not the means to pay for it. 

" I also maintained with inviolable firmness a disinterested 
determination to receive no presents ; I was so well known 
for that characteristic that no man ever presumed to offer 
me any, except one, who was foolish. I do not know what 
made him do the thing I will now teU you : I had an amber 
fan, very pretty ; I laid it for a moment on a table ; and this 
man, whether as a joke or from design, took it up and broke 
it in two. I was surprised and angry ; I liked my fan very 
much, and to lose it was a great regret to me. The next day 
the man sent me a dozen fans the equals of the one he had 
broken. I sent him word it was not worth while to break 
mine in order to send me a dozen others, for I should have 
liked thirteen fans better than twelve, which I returned to 
him, and remained without any fan at all. I turned the 
man to ridicule in company for having sent me a present, so 
that no one after that ever offered me one. You cannot 
think what a reputation this proceeding gave me ; and I 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 297 

was so jealous of maintaining it that I would gladly have 
done without everythiag rather than act otherwise. Such 
love of reputation, though it may be mixed with pride and 
arrogance, and should consequently be corrected by piety, is 
nevertheless of great utihty to young ladies ; it is a supple- 
ment to piety, which protects them from many disorders." 

What pains and ennui there are in all states of life. 

1710. 
Mme. de Maintenon, having had fever all night, and 
having it still, went up to class Blue and said to them : " I 
have dragged myself here to see you, my children, in order 
that you may tell me what you have remembered of the 
fine conference you had yesterday with M. I'Abb^ Tiberge " 
[one of the confessors of Saint-Cyr]. The young ladies 
repeated it, and when they came to the part where he told 
them there were troubles in every state of life she took up 
the subject and enlarged upon it, saying : " That is true 
indeed, beginning first with the Court people, whom the 
world considers so fortunate. There is nothing more burden- 
some than the life they lead ; it costs them infinite trouble, 
constraint, expense, and ennui to pay their court; and at 
the end of it all you will hear them say : ' Ah ! how vexed 
I am ; I have stood about since morning and I thiak the 
king has not even seen me.' And, in truth," continued 
Mme. de Maintenon, " they get up very early in the morning, 
dress with care, and are on their feet all day, watching for 
a favourable moment to make themselves seen and be pre- 
sented ; and often they come back as they went, except that 
they are in despair at having wasted both time and trouble. 
But I wish you could see the state of the fortunate ones ; 
that is to say, those who see the king and have the honour 
to be in his intimacy ; there is nothing to equal the ennui 



298 COEEESPONDENCE OF 

that consumes them. We are now at Meudon, a magnificent 
palace. Well ! every one must go to walk, without liking to 
do so, in a dreadful wind perhaps, out of respect to the king. 
They come back very tired, and you will see a number of 
women complaining and saying : ' How weary I am ! this 
place will kill us aU.' ' I cannot bear it,' says another ; ' if 
I could only walk with some one whom I like, but no ! I 
find myself in file with some one who makes me die of 
weariness.' For no one can choose her companion any 
more than you can here ; she must go with whoever presents 
himself. The fact is," said Mme. de Maintenon, " they do 
not really know what to do, .and nothing gives them any 
pleasure. Fete-days are the most wearisome of aU for those 
who are not pious ; they do not know how to while away 
the time. A few ladies are fortunate enough to like to 
spend those days, as they should, in church ; others who like 
to work are vexed not to dare to do so ; others again, who 
like neither church nor work, find those days intolerably 
wearisome. You see, my dear girls, how it is with the 
greatest of the earth ; for I am speaking now of princes and 
princesses, the very first persons "of the Court, and those who 
are the envy of the rest of the world. They are usually 
not contented anywhere ; they are bored by dint of seeking 
pleasure; they go from palace to palace, Meudon, Marly, 
Eambouillet, Fontainebleau, in hopes of amusing themselves. 
All these are delightful places, where you, my children, 
would be enchanted if you saw them ; but these people are 
bored because they are used to it all. In the long run the 
finest things cease to give pleasure and become indifferent ; 
besides, such things do not make us happy ; happiness must 
come from within. ... As for me, whose favour every one 
envies because I pass a part of my day with the king, — they 
think me the most fortunate person in the world ; and they 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 299 

are right, so far as the goodness with which his Majesty 
honours me ; and yet there is no one more restrained. When 
the king is in my room I often sit apart from him because 
he is writing ; no one speaks, unless very low, in order not 
to disturb him. Before I came to Court, at thirty-two years 
of age, I can truly say that I never knew ennui ; but I have 
known it enough since, and I believe that I could not bear it, 
in spite of my reason, if I did not feel that it is God who 
wills it. If you had to sit in my chamber and never say a 
word for a portion of your lives you would quiver with im- 
patience, would you not ? And yet, in spite of all I tell you, 
my post is envied. There is no true happiness my children, 
except in serving God ; piety alone can sustain us and give 
us an equable behaviour, in the midst of pains and tedium 
as well as in the midst of prosperity, which is a state no 
less dangerous to our salvation." 



X. 

MME. DE MAINTENON'S DESCRIPTION OF HER LIFE AT 
COURT ;i WITH A FEW MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS. 

"I AM," Madame said to me [1705], "in great joy when- 
ever I see the door closing behind me as I enter here ; and I 
never go out of it without pain. Often, on returning to 
Versailles, I think : ' This is the world, and apparently the 
world for which Jesus Christ would not pray on the eve of 
his death. I know there are good souls at Court, and that 
God has saints in all conditions ; but it is certain that what 
is called the world is centred here ; it is here that all passions 
are in motion, — self-interest, ambition, envy, pleasure ; this 
is the world so often cursed by God.' I own to you that 
these reflections give me a sense of sadness and horror for 
that place, where, nevertheless, I have to live." 

After speaking with Madame of various afflicting things, 
I said to her that at least she would see none in this house, 
for all was going on so well it ought to be a place of rest to 
her, where she could take comfort for what she suffered 
elsewhere. " That is just so," replied Madame, " and what 
should I do without this house ? I could not live. I think 
that God has given it to me, not for my salvation only, but 
for my rest ; it does not serve me only to pray to God and 
gather myself together, but it diverts my mind; it makes 

1 This is a confidence made at Saint-Cyr to Mme. de Glapion, one of 
the Dames de Saint-Cyr, whose zeal, modesty, tenderness of soul, intel- 
ligence and devotion to duty had won for her the friendship of the found- 
ress. She narrates the conversation. (French editor.) 




-<?^^^ .ZZV^yc 



■^C'€c^^'-^t/: 



CORRESPONDENCE OF MME. DE MAINTENON. 301 

me forget those other things. When I am here, and busy, 
when we hold counsel together or I talk with the young 
ladies, I do not even think there is a Court, and I breathe 
freely." " I thought this morning," I said, " when I saw 
you taking the communion, that it may have been long since 
you had such a morning, when you could pray to God at 
your ease and collect yourself." "That is true," replied 
Madame. " I have told you often that the only time I can 
take for my prayers and the mass is when other people 
sleep ; without it, I could not go on ; for when people once 
begin to enter my room I am. not my own mistress ; I have 
not an instant to myself." I replied, as to that, that I 
always imagined her room to be like the shop of a great 
merchant, which, once opened, is never empty and where 
the shopman must remain. " That is just how it is," said 
Madame. " They begin to come in about half -past seven ; 
first it is M. Mar^chal [the king's surgeon] ; he has no 
sooner gone than M. Fagon enters; he is followed by M. 
Bloin [the king's head valet] or some else sent to inquire 
how I am. Sometimes I have extremely pressing letters to 
write, which I must get in here. Next come persons of 
greater consequence : one day, M. Chamillart ; another, the 
archbishop ; to-day, a general of the army on the point of 
departure ; to-morrow, an audience that I must give, having 
been demanded under such circumstances that I cannot 
defer it. M. le Due du Maine waited the other day in my 
antechamber till M. Chamillart had finished. When M. 
Chamillart went out M. du Maine came in and kept me till 
the king arrived ; for there is a little etiquette in this, that 
no one leaves me till some one of higher rank enters and 
sends them away. When the king comes, they all have to 
go. The king stays till he goes to mass. I do not know if 
you have observed that all this time I am not yet dressed ; 



302 COEEESPONDENCE OF 

if I were I should not have been able to say my prayers. I 
still have my night-cap on ; but my room by this time is 
like a church ; a perpetual procession is going on, everybody 
passes through it ; the comings and goings are endless. 

" When the king has heard mass he returns to me ; next 
comes the Duchesse de Bourgogne with a number of ladies, 
and there they stay while I eat my dinner. You would 
think that here at least was a time I could have to myself ; 
but you shall see how it is. I fret lest the Duchesse de 
Bourgogne should do something unsuitable ; I try to make 
her say a word to this one ; I look to see if she treats that 
one properly, and whether she is behaving well to her hus- 
band. I must entertain the company, and do it in a way 
to unite them all. If some one commits an indiscretion I 
feel it ; I am worried by the manner in which people take 
what is said to them; in short, it is a tumult of mind 
that nothing equals. Around me stand a circle of ladies, 
so that I cannot even ask for something to drink. I turn 
to them sometimes and say : ' This is a great honour for me, 
but I would hke to have a footman.' On that, each of them 
wants to serve me and hastens to bring me what I want; 
but that is only another sort of embarrassment and annoy- 
ance to me. At last they go off to dine themselves, for my 
dinner is at twelve o'clock with Mme. d'Heudicourt and 
Mme. de Dangeau, who are invalids. Here I am at last 
alone with those two; every one else has gone. If there 
were a moment in the day when I might what is called 
amuse myself, this is it, either for talk or a game at back- 
gammon. But usually Monseigneur takes this time to come 
and see me, because on some days he does not dine, on other 
days he has dined early, and so comes after the others. He 
is the hardest man in the world to talk with, for he never 
says a word. But I must try to entertain him because I am 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 303 

in my own apartment; if it were elsewhere I could lean 
back in a chair and say nothing if I chose. The ladies who 
are with me can do that if they like, but I must, as they say, 
labour it out, and manage to find something to say; and 
this is not very enhvening. 

" After the king's dinner is over, he comes with all the prin- 
cesses and the royal family into my room ; and they cause it 
to be intolerably hot. They talk ; the king stays about half 
an hour ; then he goes away, but no one else ; the rest remain, 
and as the king is no longer there they come nearer to me ; 
they surround me, and I am forced to listen to the jokes of 
Mme. la Mardchale de Cl^rembault, the satire of this one, and 
the tales of that one. They have nothing to do, those good 
ladies ; and they have done nothing all the morning. It is 
not so with me, who have much else to do than to sit there 
and talk, probably with a heart full of care, grief, and dis- 
tress at bad news, like that from Verrue lately. I have 
everything on my mind; I am thinking how a thousand 
men may be perishing, and others in agony. . . . After they 
have all stayed some time they begin to go away, and then 
what do you suppose happens ? One or other of these ladies 
invariably stays behind, wishing to speak to me in private. 
She takes me by the hand, leads me into my little room, 
and tells me frequently the most unpleasant and wearisome 
things, for, as you may well suppose, it is not my affairs 
that they talk about ; they are those of their own family : 
one has had a quarrel with her husband ; another wants to 
obtain something from the king ; an ill turn has been done 
to this one ; a false report has been spread about that one ; 
domestic troubles have embroiled a third ; and I am forced 
to listen to all this, and the one among them whom I like 
least does not restrain herself more than the others, — she 
tells me everything; I must be told all the circumstances 



304 COKRESPOKDENCE OF 

and speak about them to the king. Often the Duchesse de 
Bourgogne wants to speak to me in private, like the rest. 

" All this makes me think sometimes when I reflect upon 
it that my position is so singular it must be God who 
placed me in it. I behold myself in the midst of them all ; 
this person, this old person of mine, the object of all their 
attention. It is to me they must address themselves, to me, 
through whom all passes ! God has given me grace never 
to look at my position on its splendid side. I feel nothing 
but the pains of it ; it seems to me that, thank God ! I am 
not dazzled ; He enables me to see it just as it is. I do not 
allow myself to be blinded by the grandeur and the favour 
that surround me ; I regard myself as an instrument which 
God is using to do good, and I feel that all the influence He 
permits me to have should be employed in serving Him, in 
comforting whom I can, and in uniting these princes with 
one another, if possible. I think sometimes of the hatred 
that I have instinctively for the Court; it is nothing new; 
I have had it always. God, nevertheless, destined me to be 
there ; why, then, has He given me this aversion to it ? It 
must be because He wills that I should live in its midst and 
find my salvation there. Mme. de Montespan, on the con- 
trary, loved the Court, not only for the ties that held her 
to it, but because she liked Court life. What does God do ? 
He binds to it the one who hates it. He sends away from it 
the one who loves it, apparently for the salvation of both. 
Ah ! how good it is to let Him act, to abandon ourselves to 
Him, to live from day to day doing all the good we can. He 
knows better what we want than ourselves ; and, assuredly. 
He is an excellent director ; we need only to yield ourselves 
to His guidance. But let us go on. 

" When the king returns from hunting he comes to me ; 
then my door is closed and no one enters. Here I am, then, 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 305 

alone with him. I must bear his troubles, if he has any, his 
sadness, his nervous dejection; sometimes he bursts into 
tears which he cannot control, or else he complains of illness. 
He has no conversation. Then a minister comes, who often 
brings fatal news ; the king works. If they wish me to be 
a third in their consultation, they call me ; if they do not 
want me I retire to a little distance, and it is then that I 
sometimes make my afternoon prayers ; I pray to God for 
about half an hour. If they wish me to hear what is said 
I cannot do this ; I sit there, and hear perhaps that things 
are going ill; a courier has arrived with bad news; and 
all that wrings my heart and prevents me from sleeping at 
night. 

" While the king continues to work I sup ; but it is not 
once in two months that I can do so at my ease. I feel that 
the king is alone, or I have left him sad, or that M. Chamil- 
lart has almost finished with him ; sometimes he sends and 
begs me to make haste. Another day he wants to show me 
something. So that I am always hurried, and the only thing 
I can do is to eat very fast. I have my fruit brought with 
the meat to hasten supper ; and all this as fast as I can. I 
leave Mme. d'Heudicourt and Mme. de Dangeau at table, 
because they cannot eat as fast as I do, and often I am 
oppressed by it. 

" After this it is, as you may suppose, getting late. I have 
been about since six in the morning ; I have not breathed 
freely the whole day ; I am overcome with weariness and 
yawning; more than that, I begin to feel what it is that 
makes old age ; I find myself at last so weary that I can no 
more. Sometimes the king perceives it and says : ' You are 
very tired, are you not ? You ought to go to bed.' So I go 
to bed ; my women come and undress me ; but I feel that 
the king wants to talk to me and is waiting till they go ; or 

20 



306 COEEESPONDENCE OF 

some minister still remaias and lie fears my women will hear 
what he says. That makes him uneasy, and me too. What 
can I do? I hurry; I hurry so that I almost faint; and 
you must know that all my Hfe what I have hated most is 
to be hurried. At five years of age it had the same effect 
upon me ; I was faint if I ran too fast, for being naturally 
very quick and consequently inclined to haste, I was also 
very delicate, so that to run, as I tell you, choked me. Well, 
at last I am in bed; I send away my women; the king 
approaches and sits down by my pillow. What can I do 
then ? I am in bed, but I have need of many things ; mine 
is not a glorified body without wants. There is no one there 
whom I can ask for what I need ; not a single woman. It is 
not because I could not have them, for the king is full of kind- 
ness, and if he thought I wanted one woman he would endure 
ten ; but it never comes into his mind that I am constrain- 
ing myself. As he is master everywhere, and does exactly 
what he wishes, he cannot imagme that any one should do 
otherwise ; he beheves that if I show no wants, I have none. 
You know that my rule is to take everything on myself and 
think for others. Great people, as a rule, are not like that ; 
they never constrain themselves, they never think that others 
are constraiaed by them, nor do they feel grateful for it, 
simply because they are so accustomed to see everything 
done in reference only to themselves that they are no longer 
struck by it and pay no heed. I have sometimes, during my 
severe colds, been on the point of choking with a cough I 
was unable to check. M. de Pontchartrain, who saw me one 
day all crimson with the effort, said to the king : ' She can- 
not bear it ; some one must be called.' 

" The king stays with me till he goes to supper, and about 
a quarter of an hour before the supper is served M. le 
Dauphin, M. le Due and Mme. la Duchesse de Bourgogne 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 307 

come to me. At ten o'clock or a quarter past ten everybody 
goes away. There is my day. I am now alone, and I take 
the relief of which I am in need; but often the anxieties 
and fatigues I have gone through keep me from sleeping." 

I expressed to Madame how trying all that seemed to me, 
and said I should not be surprised if some one should speak 
of her as the most unhappy person in the world. " And yet," 
she added, " could they not also say, ' She is the happiest. 
She is with the king from morning till night ? ' But they do 
not remember, in saying that, that kings and princes are men 
like other men ; they have their griefs and troubles which 
we must share with them. Moreover, there are a thousand 
things that our princes never think of which fall upon me. 
For example, Mme. la Pruicesse des Ursins is about to return 
to Spain; I must busy myself with her; I must repair as 
best I can by my attentions the coldness of the Duchesse de 
Bourgogne, the stiffness of the king, the indifference of others. 
I go to see her ; I give her time " with me ; I listen to a 
thousand matters I do not care about ; and all that merely 
that she may go away pleased with others, and say good of 
them, especially of the Duchesse de Bourgogne. I see they 
are all too negligent to do this for themselves ; I must supply 
the want; and so with a thousand other things. I have 
always on my mind Spain nearly lost to us, peace receding 
farther than ever, miseries that I hear of on all sides, thou- 
sands of persons suffering before my very eyes and I not 
able to help them, — and then, besides these sorrows, the 
excesses that reign at Court, drunkenness, gluttony, excessive 
luxury, and, worst of all, the visible dangers to religion." 

I asked Madame if she were not sometimes impatient; 
she answered : " Ah ! indeed yes, I am ; I am often, as they 
say, up to my throat in it ; but it must be borne ; and 
besides, God has arranged it. When I reflect on my condi- 



308 COKEESPONDENCE OF 

tion, and how burdened I am with cares and griefs, I think : 
' How would it be with my soul if this were not so ? If, with 
this magnificence, wealth, and luxury, I had nothing to pain 
me, would anything on this earth be so Kkely to ruin me ? A 
grandeur like this, if combined with ease of life, would soon 
lead me to forget God. I am lodged like the king; my 
furniture is magnificent ; I am in luxury ; but God shows 
his mercy throughout all that by minghng with it pains and 
distresses which serve as a counterpoise and make me turn 
to Him.'" 

To M. le Due de Noailles. 

Saint-Cte, September 5, 1706, 
Our dear princess [Duchesse de Bourgogne] is fairly 
well ; she is too anxious about the war for a person of her 
age. M. le Due de Bourgogne is always pious, amorous, 
and scrupulous ; but he is becoming every day more reason- 
able. I have no one to speak with, and I think that spares 
me many sins ; for my confidences would be neither favour- 
able to nor honourable for my neighbours. The men are 
aU on bad terms with me, and the women I pay no heed 
to. Adieu, my dear duke. It is not necessary to urge 
you to zeal for the king and State ; you act from principles 
that cannot change ; and if you do not meet with aU the 
gratitude you deserve, you will receive a more solid reward 
hereafter. 

To Mme. la Princesse des Tlrsins. 

Saint Cte, October 17, 1706. 
I can only add that our princess is taking great care to 
carry her child to the end. She is fairly well, but extremely 
sad. She has an affection for her father, but feels a great 
resentment to him ; she loves her mother tenderly, and 
takes as great an interest in the affairs of Spain as in those 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 309 

of France. She loves the king, and never sees him more 
serious than usual without the tears coming into her eyes ; 
and with her excessive kindness she interests herself also 
in my pains and woes. I should like to comfort her, but, 
on the contrary, I distress her. This is a terrible state for 
a person of her age, and one who has, I think, without 
speaking of it, much uneasiness about her approaching con- 
finement, and many fears lest she should have a girl. 

To Mme. de Glapion. 

Saint-Cte, February, 1707. 
I have just been witness of a conversation between the 
king and M. le Dauphin which has caused me great pain. 
I spend my hfe in trying to unite them and in warding 
off everything that is likely to cause misunderstandings 
between them, and yet here they are on the verge of 
quarrelling about a trifle. Monseigneur wanted to give 
a pubhc ball to which society in general should be ad- 
mitted; he was absolutely determined about it, and with 
him the Duchesse de Boursfogne. The king, with charm- 
ing gentleness, opposed it, and told Monseigneur it was 
not proper, if he wished the Duchesse de Bourgogne to 
be present, that all sorts of men and women should be 
present also. The princess, on her side, could see no harm 
in it, for she is just as ready to dance with a comedian as 
with a prince of the blood. I cannot tell you how this 
little squabble has made me suffer, and what a night I 
have passed. I blame myself for my too great sensibility, 
and yet, on the other hand, it seems to me I am right to 
desire peace in the royal family and to dread, between a 
king of seventy and a dauphin of forty-six, whatever may 
set them against each other and add to our general war a 
civil one. 



310 COERESPONDENCE OE 

To Mme. la Princesse des Ursins. 

Saint-Ctr, April 10, 1707. 

Our king is tranquil, gentle, and equable m. temper, such 
as you left him. His health is very good ; his occupations 
the same as ever ; it would really seem as though nothing 
had happened to give him pain [reference to disasters in 
war]. This is something surprising, which amazes me 
constantly. 

Our princess makes great efforts to amuse herself, and 
only succeeds in making herself giddy with fatigue. She 
went yesterday to dine at Meudon followed by twenty-four 
ladies ; after that they were to go to the fair and see some 
famous rope-dancers, return to sup at Meudon, and play 
cards, no doubt, till daybreak. She must have come home 
this morning, — ill perhaps, certainly serious, for that is the 
usual result of all her pleasures. 

Versailles, later. 

Mme. la Duchesse de Bourgogne has a severe headache. 
M. Fagon has fever and must be bled. Wherever I turn 
I find subjects for distress and anxiety. How can you, 
madame, wish for my letters ? 

To Mme. la Marquise de Dangeau. 

Saint-Cte, Saturday, July 16, 1707. 
It is in order that I may speak to you, madame, of the 
Duchesse de Bourgogne, that I have asked you to put off 
your visit to Paris till to-morrow. The king said to me 
last evening that he had been much surprised to hear of 
the card-playing at Bretesch [a village between Marly and 
Versailles]. I saw by that that the Duchesse de Bour- 
gogne had deceived me. She told me that Mme. la Du- 
chesse had invited herself to supper, but I see now it was a 
prearranged party, for the king tells me that the princess 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 311 

herself invited Mme. la Duchesse, and that M. de Lorges 
was the first to arrive. I answered that it was quite 
natural that Mme. la Duchesse should sup at her brother's 
house, but that as for the cards, I was more sorry than 
any one. 

The king said, " Is not a dinner, a cavalcade, a hunt, a 
collation enough for one day ? " Then he added after a 
while, " I should do well to tell those gentlemen they are 
not paying their court well in gambhng with the Duchesse 
de Bourgogne." I said that lansquenet had always troubled 
me, for fear she might make some trip that would do her 
harm and put her on a bad footing. We talked of other 
things and then the king returned to the subject and said 
to me, " Should I not do better to speak to those gentle- 
men ? " I replied that I thought that manner of acting 
might be injurious to the Duchesse de Bourgogne, and 
that he had better speak to her herself, so that the matter 
might remain secret. He said he should do so to-day ; 
and I have begged you to remain in order that you may 
warn her. We have now come sooner than I expected to 
the alienation I have all along apprehended. The king 
will think he has vexed her by stopping her lansquenet and 
will be more stiff with her ; she will certainly be vexed 
and be cold with him ; I shall feel the same and return 
to the formal respect I owe to her; but I am not yet 
detached enough from the esteem of the world to consent 
to let it think I approve such conduct. [We know already 
how the sweet temper of the princess took these rebukes 
and turned away wrath.] 

The Duchesse de Bourgogne will be compassionated by 
Mme. la Duchesse ; which makes me remember the traps 
that her mother [Mme. de Montespan] used to lay for the 
queen and Mme, de la Valli^re, in order to make the king 



312 COERESPONDENCE OF 

notice later what their behaviour had been. If after speak- 
ing to the princess you could come out to Saint-Cyr I should 
be glad ; but I doubt whether, after so painful a conversa- 
tion, you will be in a state to appear. If you find it possible 
to approach the Duchesse de Bourgogne you might give her 
this letter to prepare her for answering the king, and then 
you can speak to her in the evening more at length. You 
can imagine, madame, what a night I have passed. Let us 
pray God for our princess, who is drowniug herself in a glass 
of water. 

To Mme. la Princesse des Ursins. 

FoNTAiNEBLEAtr, July 23, 1708. 

You know now, madame, that our happiness has not lasted 
long. The reduction of Ghent to the power of his Catholic 
Majesty had placed us in a situation of great advantage, 
which ought to have been maintained through the rest of 
the campaign; the enemy were on the retreat and quite 
disheartened. M. de Vendome, who believes what he wishes, 
chose to give battle and lost it [Oudenarde], and we are 
worse off now than we were before, as much from fear of 
consequences and the air of superiority assumed by the 
enemy as from the loss of our troops. 

In this condition we have felt the joy of the taking of 
Tortosa much less [taken by the Due d'Orl^ans, July 11], 
though we see all the value of it. Madame is delighted, and 
with good reason ; she sees M. le Due d'Orl^ans covered 
with glory, and out of the danger to which he was exposed. 

You know, madame, the levity of Frenchmen, and it 
seems to me that their talk is reaching you. Ghent, they 
are now saying, put us in a condition to make peace on any 
terms we chose ; now all is lost, and we have to ask it with 
a cord round our necks. And yet, madame, neither state- 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 813 

ment is true. The enemy had great resources though we 
had Ghent; we should have had more if M. de VendOme 
had chosen to act with more precaution. Our army is still 
very fine and very good, the troops have done their duty, 
they are in nowise discouraged, and are now asking only to 
redeem themselves ; but that they must not be allowed 
to attempt except with the order and caution to be ob- 
served on such occasions. The Due de Bourgogne has held 
the wisest opinions, but he was ordered to yield to M. de 
Vendome as being more experienced. Our princes have 
been in a position to be captured ; imagine, madame, where 
we should then have been. That is a comfort I try to give 
to the Duchesse de Bourgogne in the extreme distress she 
feels. She shows throughout these sad events the feelings 
of a true Frenchwoman, such as I have always known her to 
feel ; but I own I did not think that she loved M. le Due de 
Bourgogne to the point we now see. Her tenderness goes 
even to delicate sentiment; she keenly feels that his first 
battle has proved disastrous; she would like him to have 
been as much exposed as a grenadier, and then to have come 
back to her without a scratch. She feels, too, Ms pain for 
the troubles that have happened ; she shares the uneasiness 
that his present position must give him ; she would like a 
battle, in order to have him win, and yet she fears it. 
Nothing escapes her ; she is worse than I. This affliction 
which, in one aspect, gives me some pleasure because it 
proves her merit, gives me also great uneasiness about her 
health, which seems to have changed. Milk had done her 
some good and her fine colour was returning ; but all these 
troubles distress her ; and she is capable of prolonged grief ; 
we saw after the death of Monsieur how long she felt it; 
and she is still feeling it. 



314 COEEESPONDENCE OP 

To M. le Due de Noailles. 

Saint-Ctr, June 13, 1710. 

We are awaiting the dispensation from Eome to marry 
the Due de Berry ; there would be many things to write 
you about that if prudence did not restrain me; but it is 
time to have a little of that virtue. There will be no fetes, 
rejoicings, or expense ; all will be done with regard to the 
present condition of affairs. . . . 

Our tall Princesse de Conti is greatly afflicted by the 
death of the Duchesse de la Vallifere. She is hurt that the 
king has not been to see her ; but he thought he ought not 
to renew a matter of which he repents daily. The princess 
no longer conceals her piety, and she sets a great example to 
the Court with much sense and courage. We shall go to 
Marly immediately after the wedding ; I have some impa- 
tience to see two little rooms next the chapel, which the king 
has given me that I may go and rest sometimes, and get 
away from the annoyance of visitors m the morning. 

The Duchesse de Bourgogne becomes more sensible every 
day. She is to be trusted with the feeding and education of 
the Duchesse de Berry, who for some time to come is not to 
have an establishment of her own. People are beginning to 
say, however, that a contract of marriage cannot be made 
without giving an appanage ; and the king may give them 
that which Mme. de Guise once had. No one has ever seen 
a better household than that of the Due and Duchesse 
d'Orl^ans ; they are never apart, and they take all their 
pleasures together. It is thought that Mme. de Saint-Simon 
will be lady of honour. 

The whole talk now is of the new chapel [the present 
chapel at Versailles] ; every one is rushing from all parts to 
see it ; it is magnificent ; I have not enough good taste to 
judge as to the rest. 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 315 

In addition to my other woes I have a toothache, which 
does not make me gay. Let us all take courage and hope 
in the vicissitudes of this world. Adieu, Monsieur le due. 

To Mme. la Princesse des Ursins. 

Versailles, December 15, 1710. 

I consulted M. Fagon this morning to know if he ap- 
proved of your taking back with you to Madrid the waters 
of Barfege ; he tells me that he has written in favour of it to 
your physicians, and told them of the experiments made by 
Gervais in that matter. 

Though I know that your queen is above all other women, 
I cannot help feeling for what disfigures her. [The Queen 
of Spain, Louise de Savoie, had glandular swellings, which 
increased terribly and finally killed her February, 1714, just 
two years after her sister's death.] I entreat you, madame, 
to send me news of her condition. 

You must allow me, madame, to pour out to you my feel- 
ings about the Duchesse de Bourgogne. After having borne 
with much discussion as to the bad system I had pursued 
in her education ; after being blamed by all the world for 
the liberties she has taken in running about from morning 
till night ; after seeing her hated by some for never saying 
a word, and accused of horrible dissimulation in the attach- 
ment she has shown to the king and the goodness with 
which she honoured me, I see her to-day with all the 
world chanting her praises, believing in her good heart, also 
in her great mind, and agreeing that she knows well how to 
hold a large Court to respect ; I see her adored by the Due 
de Bourgogne, tenderly beloved by the king, who has just 
placed her household in her own hands to manage as she 
likes, saying pubhcly that she is capable of governing much 
greater things. I tell you of my joy about all this, madame, 



316 COEEESPONDENCE OP 

convinced that you will be glad of it, for you were the first 
to discover, sooner than others, the merits of our princess. 

Mme. la Duchesse de Berry is still a child ; her husband 
loves her passionately. M. le Dauphin said last night that 
he himself was the man in the world who had made the 
most good husbands. May God preserve them all. 

To Mme. la, Princesse des Ursins. 

Saint-Cyr, November 30, 1711. 

We have no courier to-day, madame; perhaps he is de- 
layed by the floods that surround us on all sides. Eor a 
month it has rained every day and all night too ; but no 
matter, we are soon apparently to have peace. The pass- 
ports have been sent ; the Dutch are beginning to change 
their ideas; Philippe V. and his amiable descendants will 
reign securely on the throne of Spain ; I have always hoped 
for a miracle in his favour : and ive shall profit by what is 
now to happen to him — which he has deserved far more 
than we. I still hope, old as I am, to see the King of Eng- 
land return to his kingdom. 

What glory for our king, madame, to have sustained a 
ten years' war against all Europe, endured the misfortunes 
which arose, experienced famine and a species of pestilence 
that carried off millions of souls, and now to see it end in a 
peace which places the monarchy of Spain in his family, and 
re-establishes a Catholic king in his kingdom — for I will 
not doubt that that will follow upon peace. The king is 
blest with a health which makes me hope he will long enjoy 
the rest he is now to have. I think you sufficiently a 
Frenchwoman (in spite of all my insults) to rejoice with us. 

Mme. la Dauphine takes eagerly to this subject of joy; 
she revels in it to its fullest extent ; she imagines the happi- 
ness of her mother, and often talks to me of that of your 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 317 

queen. She intends to do something on the day peace is 
concluded that she has never done before in her life and 
never will do again ; but she has not yet found out what it 
shall be. Meantime she is going to the Te Deum at Notre- 
Dame, to dinner with the Duchesse du Lude in a beautiful 
new house, after that to the opera, and to sup with the 
Prince de Eohan in that magnificent hotel de Guise, then 
cards and a ball all night, and as the hour of her return will 
be that of my waking, she will probably come and ask me 
for some breakfast on arriving. I think, madame, that you 
would find such a day rather long in spite of its pleasures. 

M. le Comte de Toulouse was extremely well until the 
twenty-first day after the operation, when the king went to 
see him, and the whole Court, with French indiscretion, went 
also, which threw him into a fever. 

To Mme. la Frincesse des TJrsins. 

Versailles, January 11, 1712. 

I do not know, madame, if the courier of to-day will bring 
me letters from you ; but I have one by M. de Torcy's 
courier and another by the last courier to answer. 

It is true, madame, that Madame la Dauphine does greatly 
regret her youth ; there is, however, ground to hope that 
she will always amuse herself, for she has within her a fund 
of inexhaustible joy; and if we are fortunate enough to 
have peace, it is probable that she will always be very happy. 
Her great gayety does not prevent great sympathy in trouble ; 
she has keenly felt the uncertainty which the King and 
Queen of Spain have borne ; she suffers much on account of 
her father ; but there is no Frenchwoman more attached to 
the welfare of this country than she; so that I think she 
never can be held in when all these subjects of distress are 
lifted from her. She has reason to be happy ; she is well 



318 CORRESPONDENCE OP 

married, much beloved by the king and dauphin, and she 
truly makes the enjoyment of the whole Court. There 
are days when she has attacks of fever, and then the cour- 
tiers are in consternation, and cry out about the irreparable 
loss she would be to them. The people love her much 
because she lets herself be seen very readily; she has the 
most pleasing children she could possibly desire, less hand- 
some than yours, but very vigorous, and perfect pictures, — 
graceful like herself, and showing already much intelligence. 

If we may judge of the king's life by the present state of 
his health we may hope that it will last as long as that of 
the Marquis de Mancera, for their regime is about the same ; 
there is no retrenchment in the meals that you know of ; no 
diminution in the fine appearance, the habit of walking, in 
fact the whole figure, which you know, madame, is superior 
to that of aU others. M. le Grand, who eats as much as the 
king and is much younger, is broken down with rheumatism, 
and can hardly drag himself about. M. de Villeroy always 
looks finely, but his sobriety does not save him from gout ; 
M. le Due de Grammont never has a day's health. These 
are the contemporaries and the strongest men of his time. 

You will probably hear of a little scene with the Duchesse 
de Berry, who gives much anxiety to Madame, and to the 
Duchesse d'Orl^ans. We must hope for some change in a 
young person only sixteen years old. Why, madame, do you 
speak to me of respectful attachment ? Are you not, as it 
were, making game of me ? You owe me, madame, merely 
a little friendship in return for the sentiments I have for you. 
I beg you to place me at the feet of the king and queen ; 
and to believe that I shall esteem and love you all my life • 
I do not think that in saying that I am wanting in respect. 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 319 

To Mme. la Princesse des Ursins. 

February 7, 1712. 
I do not know, madame, how I shall have strength to 
write you of the horrors that surround us. Measles are 
making great ravages in Paris. M. de Gondrin was buried 
yesterday ; his wife has measles and continued fever with a 
dead child in her body ; she wants to rise at every moment 
and go to her husband, who they dare not tell her is dead. 
Mme. la Dauphine has an inflammation in the head, which 
gives her a fixed pain between the ear and the upper end of 
the jaw ; the place of the pain is so small that it could be 
covered by a thumb-nail. She has convulsions and screams 
like a woman in childbirth, and with the same intervals. 
She was bled twice yesterday and has taken opium three 
times, and seems a little more quiet at this moment. I am 
now going to her; and will close this at the last moment 
to give you the latest news. 

Seven o'clock at night. 

Mme. la Dauphine, having taken a fourth dose of opium 
and chewed and smoked tobacco, feels a Httle easier. They 
have just come to tell me that she has slept an hour, and 
hopes to sleep a long time. 

[The dauphine died February 12, the dauphin February 
18 ; and their eldest son, the Due de Bretagne, March 
8, leaving the infant Due d'Anjou (Louis XV.) as the sole 
direct descendant of Louis XIV.] 

To Mme. la Princesse des Ursins. 

Versailles, February 22, 1712. 

You wlU have heard the unhappy news ; it is such that 
I cannot tell it to you in detail. The grief of the king is 
too great. All France is in consternation. My own state 
must not hinder me from thinking often of their Catholic 



320 COEEESPONDENCE OF 

Majesties ; I beg you, madame, to assure tliem of this. The 
King of Spain loses a saint in losing his brother ; the queen 
is fortunate in never having known our dauphine [she was 
a little child when Marie-Adelaide left Savoie]. Adieu, 
madame ; I am quite imable to write you any details. 

To M. le Due de BeauvilUers. 

Saint-Ctr, March 15, 1712. 
To put your mind at ease, monsieur, I have taken copies 
of all your writings [found among the dauphin's papers], and 
I send them all to you, without exception. Secrecy would 
have been kept, but circumstances might arise to reveal 
everything. We have just passed through a sad experience. 
I should have liked to return to you all the letters from 
yourself, and from M. de Cambrai [F^nelon], but the king 
desired to burn them himself. I own to you that I regret 
this much, for nothing was ever written so beautiful and so 
good. If the prince we mourn had a few defects it was not 
because the counsel given him was too timid, nor yet that 
he was too much flattered. It may be said that those who 
walk straight can never be confounded. 

To Mme. la Frincesse des Ursins. 

Saint-Ctb, September 11, 1715. 

You are very good, madame, to think of me in the great 
event that has just happened [death of Louis XIY., Septem- 
ber 1, 1715]. "We can but bow our heads beneath the hand 
that strikes us. 

I would with all my heart, madame, that your condition 
were as happy as mine. I have seen the king die like a 
saint and a hero ; I am in the most pleasing retreat I could 
desire ; and wherever I am, madame, I shall be, all my life, 
your very humble and very obedient servant. 



MME. DE MAINTENON. 321 

To Mme. la Princesse des Ursins. 

Saint-Ctk, December 27, 1715. 

It is true, madame, that I have withdrawn from the world 
as much as possible, and that if my friends were a little less 
kind to me, I should henceforth see no one. But it is true 
also that I do not forget those I have esteemed, loved, and 
honoured, and that I think very often of you, wishing for 
you that which I believe to be the best of all things. I sup- 
posed, madame, that you would go to Eome, and I am very 
glad that you have done so for the sake of your eyes. Mine 
have had a different fate. I have left off the spectacles I 
began thirty-five years ago to wear, and I now work tapestry 
day and night — for I sleep but little. My retreat is peace- 
ful and most complete. As for society, one can have none 
with persons who have no knowledge of all that I have seen 
and who have been brought up in this house and know 
absolutely nothing but its rules. 

There is no state on earth, madame, that does not have its 
troubles ; your good mind, your courage, and your blood have 
always diminished yours. Our Mardchal de Villeroy scarcely 
ever sees me now j but he does me kindnesses every day of 
his life. He is the refuge of the miserable. You would be 
satisfied with the public opinion of his merit ; I know men 
who do not like him who, nevertheless, cannot help admit- 
ting that he makes a noble personage. 

Believe me, madame, that I can never forget the marks of 
your goodness to me, and that I shall die with the same 
attachment as ever to you. 

[Mme. de Maintenon died at Saint-Cyr, April 15, 1719, ia 
the eighty-fifth year of her age.] 



21 



INDEX. 



Berry (Charles, Due de), 62, 210, 314. 

Berry (Marie-Louise Elisabeth, Du- 
chesse de), 57, 77, 80, 116, 117, 118, 
120, 122, 144, 146, 147, 148, 314, 318. 

BissY (Cardinal de), 84. 

Bourgogne (Louis, Due de), 86, 308, 
313. 

Bourgogne (Marie-Adelaide de Savoie, 
Duchesse de), 170, 172; Sainte- 
Beuve's introduction to her letters, 
182-190; letter of Louis XIV., de- 
scribing her, 183, 184; her appear- 
ance, 186; she came of the race of 
the great, 186; her letters, 187 ; her 
levity, 187 ; corrects herself, 187, 
188; did she have weaknesses of the 
heart ■? 188, 189; her serious good 
qualities, 189 ; mistaken charge of 
treachery, 189, 190; description of 
her letters, 191 ; arrival in France 
and first letter to her grandmother, 
192; letters from 1696 to 1712, 
192-214; her bad writing, 193, 194; 
at the camp of Compiegne, 194; 
letter to her father, 196; to her 
grandmother, 197, 198 ; to her mother, 
198-200; birth and death of her first 
child, 201 ; grief at war between 
France and Savoie, 202; letter to 
Mme. de Maintenon accepting re- 
buke, 204 ; failing health, 204 ; the 
Meudon cabal, 206 ; letter concern- 
ing her from Due de Bourgogne, 
206; letter to her father, 207; the 
terrible winter, 208 ; anxieties about 
the war, 209; birth of the Due 
d'Anjou (Louis XV.), 210 j marriage 



of Due de Berry, 210; letter to her 
father, 211; disapproval of her 
father's course, 212 ; hopes of peace, 
213; failing health, 214; death, 215; 
Sainte-Beuve asserts she is only 
rightly known in the letters of Mme. 
de Maintenon and the Princesse des 
Ursins, 234; her knowledge of all 
kinds of manual work, 284; her 
thoughtlessness, 284 ; her sweet docil- 
ity, 294 ; references to her in the 
letters of Mme. de Maintenon to the 
Princesse des Ursins, 308-320. 

Brinon (Mme. de), 235, 238. 

Buonaparte (Marie Anne de), 233, 
234. 

Buonaparte (Napoleon de), 233, 234. 

Cellamare (Prince), Spanish ambas- 
sador, 136. 

Chamilly (Marquis de), 68. 

Chelles (Louise- Adelaide d'Orleans, 
Abbess of), 131, 148-150. 

Clerbmbault (La Marechale de), 181, 
303. 

CoNTi (Francois-Louis, Prince de), 44. 

CoNTi (Marie-Anne, Princesse de), 46, 
47, 94, 314. 

Currency, inflation of the, 126. 

Dauphine (Marie-Anne-Victoire de 

Baviere, Mme. la), 95, 96. 
Denmark (Frederick IV., King of), 90. 
Descartes (Rene), 164. 
Due (M. le), de Bourbon, 152. 
Duchesse (Louise de Bourbon, Mme. 

la), 82, 83, 94, 152, 170. 



324 



INDEX. 



England (James 11., King of), 39, 50, 

66. 
England (Marie of Modena, Queen 

of), 50, 90, 91, 121, 122. 
England (William III., King of), 41, 

42, 45. 
England (George I., King of), 66, 67, 

79, 112, 114, 115, 116, 117, 152. 
EuGi;NE (Frangois-Eugene de Savoie- 

Carignan, called Prince), 99, 100. 

Fagon (Louis XIV.'s physician), 104, 

260. 
Fenelon (Archbishop of Camhrai), 68, 

223, 232, 320. 
Fontaines (Mme. de), 235, 245, 254, 

264. 

Glapion (Mme. de), 224, 225, 235, 300- 

308, 309. 
Gobelin (the Abbe de), 236, 243. 
Guise (ifelisabeth d'Orleans, Duchesse 

de), 41. 

Hanover (Sophia, Electress of), 62. 

La Chaise (Pere de), 91. 

Law (John), 127, 145, 146, 151, 152, 
156, 157,158, 159. 

Leibnitz (Gottfried Wilhelm), 79, 164. 

Lorraine (Due de), 113, 114. 

Lorraine (Elisabeth-Charlotte, Du- 
chesse de), 42, 45, 113, 114, 115, 117, 
119, 120, 180. 

Lorraine (The Chevalier de), 85. 

Longueville (Mme. de), 125, 126. 

Louis XIV., 46, 49, 51, 54, 57, 58, 65, 
70-72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 81, 83, 88, 91, 
92, 10.3, 107, 110, 124, 153, 154, 160, 
161, 162, 183-185,217, 218, 221, 230, 
231, 237, 238, 239, 267, 284, 285, 286, 
290, 291, 298, 299, 301-308, 309, 320. 

Louis XV., 73, 74, 82, 100, 103, 180, 
210. 

Louvois (Fran9ois-Michel le Tellier, 
Marquis de), 165, 282. 

Madame (Elisabeth-Charlotte, Prin- 
cess Palatine and Duchesse d'Orle'ans), 



too old on coming to France to 
change her character, 41 ; accident 
in hunting, 43 ; sentiments on mar- 
riage, 43, 44 ; why she lived a solitary 
life, 45 ; prophesies the war of the 
Spanish succession, 46 ; letter to Mme. 
de Maintenon, 47 ; Monsieur's death, 
48, 49 ; her views of the Bible, 50, 
51 ; of Christianity, 52, 53 ; the pov- 
erty of the people, 56, 58 ; allusion 
to deaths of Due and Duchesse de 
Bourgogne, 61 ; her daily routine of 
life, 64, 65 ; her portrait by Rigaud, 
70 ; collection of coins and medals, 
55, 70 ; grief at illness and death of 
Louis XIV., 70-72 ; dislike to Paris, 
72, 73, 74; judgment on the king, 
74; determined not to meddle in 
affairs of State, 75 ; the king's death, 
75, 76 ; his will, 76 ; no longer a 
Court, 77 ; had won her husband's re- 
gard, 85 ; horror at her son's mar- 
riage, 85 ; " sister-pacificator," 89 ; 
her medals, 98-100; her French 
spelling, 101 ; why she would not in- 
terfere in State affairs, 106 ; a Ger- 
man woman, 107 ; prays for her 
son, 109; asserts her ugliness, 118; 
hatred of tobacco, 118, 119; how she 
brought up her daughter, 120; love 
for Saint-Cloud, 125 ; anxiety about 
the regent, 131 ; deplorable condition 
of the country, 133, 134; recounts the 
distinguished talent she has known 
in France, 134 ; her title of Madame, 
143 ; goes to installation of Abbess 
of Chelles, 148-150; love for her 
illegitimate grandson, 151 ; her rogu- 
ishness as a child, 152 ; rebuke to 
the Abbe Dubois, 154 ; no state at 
Court, 156, 157 ; her illness, 159 ; her 
course of life after Monsieur's death, 
160; reconciled by the king with 
Mme. de Maintenon, 161 ; regard 
and interest for Louise de La Val- 
liere, 162, 163 ; nothing so wearisome 
as a sermon, 163; her Bibles, 164; 
her novel-reading, 165 ; her failing 
health, 172, 173; horror at the de- 
pravity of Paris, 174, 175 ; increasing 



INDEX. 



325 



illness, 179; goes to the coronation 
of Louis XV., 180; her last letter, 
and death, 181. 

Madame (Henrietta of England), 165, 
166, 167. 

Maine (Louis-Auguste, Due de), 90, 
100, 103, 126, 129, 133, 134, 138, 139, 
177,178, 268, 269,274. 

Maine (Anne-Louise-Benedicite de 
Bourbon-Conde, Duchesse de), 127, 
130, 132, 133, 135, 138, 139, 177. 

Maintenon (Fran^oise d'Aubigne, 
Mme. de), 47, 48, 57, 59, 70, 71, 72, 74, 
75, 78, 82, 83, 87, 91, 103, 104, 105, 122, 
124, 132, 133, 140, 182, 186, 192, 204; 
Sainte-Beuve's essay on her and on 
Saint-Cyr, 216-234; portrait of her 
by a Dame de Saint-Cyr, 218; her 
art of government, 219 ; her ideal in 
Saint-Cyr, 226; her precepts, 227- 
230; happy only at Saint-Cyr, 231, 
232 ; her unconscious prediction 
verified, 233 ; treated as a queen 
at last, 234 ; letters to the Dames 
de Saint-Cyr and others, 236-267 ; 
conversations and instructions ad- 
dressed to the mistresses and pupils 
of Saint-Cyr, 268-299 ; herself and 
Mme. de Montespan, 276 ; and Mile. 
de Fontanges, 277; her description 
of her life at Court, 300-308 ; letters 
to the Due de Noailles, 308 ; to the 
Princesse des Ursins, 308-310, 321 ; 
to Mme. de Glapion, 309 ; to Mme. 
de Dangeau, 310; to the Due de 
Beauvilliers, 320 ; death of Louis 
XIV., 320; her death, 321. 

Maisonfokt (Mme. de La), 223, 224. 

Marie-Ther^ise (The Lifanta), wife 
of Louis XIV., 154-156. 

Mazarin (Cardinal de), 78. 

Monseigneur (Louis, Dauphin), 59- 
61, 94, 95, 183, 302. 

Monsieur (Philippe, Due d'Orleans), 
47, 48, 57, 81, 82, 85, 89, 90, 97, 98, 
160, 166, 167, 183. 

Montespan (Mme. de), 124, 276. 

MoNTPENSiER (Louise-Elisabcth d'Or- 
leans, Mile, de), Queen of Spain, 176, 
178. 



Nangis (Gene'ral de), 87. 
Nassau (Comte de), 40. 
Noailles (Cardinal de), 83, 84. 
Noailles (Due de), 308. 

Orleans (Philippe Due d'), Eegent, 
49, 54, 55, 60, 61, 68, 70, 72, 73, 74, 
76, 76-81, 82, 87, 88, 89, 101, 102, 
103, 108, 109, 110, 125, 126, 128, 131, 
135, 137, 140, 147, 148, 154-157, 170, 
173, 180, 312. 

Orleans (Frau^oise de Bourbon, 
Duchesse d'), 79, 80, 86, 88, 119, 
120, 134, 135, 140, 154, 156. 

Palatinate (The), 40, 41. 

Perou (Mme. du), mistress at Saint- 
Cyr, 235, 242, 253, 256, 257, 261, 263. 

Peterborough (Charles Mordaunt, 
Earl of), 65, 66, 169. 

PoLiGNAc (Cardinal de), 84, 139. 

Portsmouth (Duchess of), 69. 

Pretender (The), James, "Chevalier 
de St. George," 78, 79, 90. 

Eaoine (Jean), 222, 223, 224, 232. 
Eegent (see Orle'ans, Philippe, Due d'). 
Eetz (Jean-Fran9ois Paul de Gondi, 

Cardinal de), 165. 
Eichelieu (Armand Jean Duplessis, 

Cardinal de), 87. 
Eichelieu (Louis-Fran^ois-Armand 

Duplessis, Due de), 141, 142, 144, 145. 
EussiA (Peter the Great, Czar of), 104, 

130, 131. 

Saint-Albin (The Abbe de), 150, 151, 
177. 

Sainte-Beuve ( Charles- Augustin), his 
introduction to Madame's corres- 
pondence, 1-33 ; to the Duchesse de 
Bourgogne's letters, 182-190; essay 
on Mme. de Maintenon at Saint-Cyr, 
216-234. 

Saint-Ctr (The Institution of), 
Sainte-Beuve's essay on it, 216-234; 
its completed idea, 217, 218; its 
foimdation, 221 ; first and tentative 
years, 222 ; changes and permanent 
establishment, 224-230 ; its existence 



326 



INDEX. 



after Mme. de Maintenon's death 
and its final destruction, 233, 234; 
Saint-Gyr, an episode in Mme. de 
Maintenon's life, 234; system and 
arrangement of classes, 235 ; letters, 
conversations, and instructions of 
Mme. de Maintenon relating to it, 
236-299. 

Saint-Francois de Sales, 174. 

Saint-Simon (Louis de Rouvroy, Due 
de), 116, 173, 185, 186. 

Savoie (Vittorio Amadeo, Due de), 
182, 190, 191, 196, 197, 202, 207. 

Savoie (Anne-Marie d'Orleans, Du- 
chesse de), 191, 198-200. 

Savoie (Jeanne de Nemours, Duchesse 
de), 192-196. 

SiAM (The King of), 55. 

Soissons (The Comtesse de), 99, 118. 

Spain (Marie-Louise d'Orleans, Queen 
of), 40, 41, 46, 178. 

Spain (Marie-Louise de Savoie, Queen 
of), 49, 82, 170. 



Stair (Earl of), 79, 132, 133. 
Sweden (Christina, Queen of), 110, 
HI. 

ToRCT (J. B. Colbert, Marquis de), 

92, 102, 175. 
Translator's Note, 34-38. 

Ursins (Anne de la Tremouille, Prin- 
cesse des), 67, 68, 69, 70, 134, 136, 
310-321. 

VALLii:RE (Louise, Marquise de La), 

162, 163, 314. 
Valois (Charlotte-Aglae d'Orleans, 

Mile, de), 131. 
ViLLARs (Marechal de), 98, 99. 
ViLLEROT (Marechal de), 321. 

Wales (The Prince of), son of George 

L, 112, 113, 117. 
Wales (Wilhelmina-Charlotte, Princess 

of), 67, 108, 112, 113, 115, 123. 



H 2U 79 



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